The Ballad of Paul & Stella
by George nomnom Harrison
Summary: Paul/OC Stella Mckenzie goes to Liverpool College of Art where she meets John Lennon! yipee!
1. Chapter 1

_**The Ballad of Paul & Stella_**_____

I walk down the hallway of the art college in Liverpool, England with one thought on my mind, to simply get to lettering class on time. The beautiful architecture of the building would amaze many people, and it has for me many times before, but not today. I can't be late to my first class. I hurry through all the people, my long blonde hair blowing behind me. My arms are full of books, and it feels as if my arms will break at any given minute. I wish I could go faster, but my tight grey skirt makes it difficult to even walk correctly. The hallway is filled with chatter from the students, and in the midst of it all I hear someone whistle as I walk past. I'm used to hearing this, and I have been told by many people that I'm beautiful. Not to be full of myself, but I have to agree with them. Although I'm not sure what side of the family I get that from.

I keep walking, not making eye contact with the group of boys leaning against the lockers, studying me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the whole lot of them laughing and nudging a tall teddy boy with Buddy Holly style glasses in his hand. I feel a chill run through me, but push it away. Just another bunch of jerks. I could care less.

Once I get to my class, I look around the classroom at all of the students, and frown to see that I don't know a single one of them. I walk over to a girl in the middle row of the class and set my things in the desk beside her on the end of the row. "May I sit here?" I ask, smiling. She nods and grins back. "I'm Cynthia Powell." She says, turning herself to face me. "I'm Stella McKenzie." I smile. "So do you know anybody in here? I don't know a single person." She shrugs and looks around. "Well, there's Phyl. She's been my best friend for two years." She says cheerfully, pointing at a brunette with her hair let down like Cynthia's. My hair is bumped up towards the back, but the rest is hanging freely over my shoulders and halfway down my torso. Not long after I meet Phyl, the teacher walks into the classroom and introduces herself. All of the seats are filled except for five, including the one behind me. That doesn't bother me in the least, I saw plenty of guys staring at the desk, but not one had the nerve to sit in it. Except for one. As soon as I thought I was in the clear, about ten minutes later, the door opens and in struts a boy looking like a teddy boy in leathers and greased back hair, holding on to a pair of heavy rimmed Buddy Holly style glasses. I freeze and keep myself from turning with the rest of the class towards the boy. The teacher looks over and grimaces. I take it she's had him in class before. "Oh, you've returned." She says in a disappointed voice. "Oh, you've returned." He repeats in a mocking tone. Her face flushes red, but she tries to keep her cool. "Take a seat, sir." The class turns forward again and I hear him walk over to the desk directly behind me and sit down. I bite my lip and try to keep cool. I don't want to be the victim.

After a long time of lecturing, it's our chance to do something. We are instructed to take out a pencil, and we all do so. As I take out my own, I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around to face the boy who's leaning back in his seat. "Yes?" I ask, looking him straight in the eye. "Do you have a pencil I could use?" He asks, a grin coming across his face. "Yes, I do." I answer, just staring at him. He looks me over. "Can I use it?" I pretend to think it over. "Yes, I think you could use it, now that you mention it." I turn around and face forward, and smile to hear him groan. He leans forward and whispers in my ear, "May I use your pencil?" I hold up a pencil to him without looking, and he takes it. "Thank you." A while passes when I feel him running his fingers through my hair. I grab it and whip around. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I scold. He grins. "You're wonderful to look at." I raise an eyebrow and turn around again. A little bit later, he whispers in my ear. "Hard to get, are you?" I take a deep breath, trying to control myself. "I have a boyfriend, just so you know." He laughs. "I bet he's just a friend. Isn't he?" I don't say anything. He saw right through me. "Can I at least have your name?" He says, somehow intriguingly. "Stella McKenzie." I say without thinking. I turn around to face him. He's grinning. "Stella… Stella, Stella, Stella." He smiles so I can see his teeth. "And you are…?" I say, trying not to smile. "John Lennon." He says with a wink. This time I can't stop myself from smiling. There's something different about this boy, something fantastic. God only knows what it is, but whatever he's got, I love it.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything all rights go to either the living/deceased get all credit to themselves Beatlemania9 gets full credit for this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hello little girl, chapter 2

I see John every day in lettering, and only lettering, but that's good enough for me. Every day he sits behind me, asks me for a pencil, and makes me laugh. I know he likes me, but I really do have a boyfriend. And my relationship with him is complicated. He loves me and thinks we have that spark, but I don't feel it. Sure, he's a great friend and fun to talk to and go out on the town with, but I don't think he's the one. He isn't really funny, he isn't very loving, and his kisses seem fake. I know that he's trying, but I don't understand the game we're playing. However, I think that I'm starting to understand what John and I are playing. And I think that I'll really enjoy this, more than with my actual boyfriend. John has something that normal boys don't. Again, it's special, and I can't name it. Nobody can, but everybody can see it.  
I walk into lettering class and set my things on my desk. "Hi Stella!" Cynthia says cheerfully. I turn around and smile. "Hey Cynthia, what makes you so sunny today?" I perch myself on top of my desk and let my legs dangle below. Just as she's about to answer, John walks in and sets his things on his desk. "Hi-diddly-ho!" He says in a Mickey Mouse voice. Cynthia giggles, and he sets himself next to her. "Hey guess what, Miss McKenzie." I grimace at the name. He's called me that for as long as I've known him, but it still gets on my nerves. "What?" He leans in close. "I have a girlfriend." Shocked, I look around the room. "Who?" I whisper. He sits back up, puts his arm around Cynthia and smiles. "Cyn." Then, to top it all off, he kisses her on the top of the head. I feel my palms get sweaty, and suddenly I don't feel so well. "Oh, that's… nice. Are you going to the dance together then?" I manage to say in a fake cheerful voice. John shrugs. "No, she has to go to the airport to pick up her Mum. I'm going though, just with my friends. How could I be unfaithful to my little girl?" He says, turning his direction to her. They gaze into each other's eyes, and before I know it, they're all over each other, lips locked together. My stomach lurches and I feel tears starting in my eyes. I grab my things as fast as I can and race out the door before they can see the tears streaming down my face. I get my bag out of my locker and run out of the school and down the sidewalk, where the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and everything's green and sunny. It's springtime, and nothing is making me feel any better. My eyes are wet with tears so I can't see, so I fall into the soft grass beneath a cherry tree, with it's pink leaves and flowers budding. I close my eyes and try to regain myself, but it's no use. The tears don't stop, and can't think about anything else. I close my eyes and soon I'm asleep in the shade of the cherry tree.

"Stella? Stella? Stella, please wake up…" Someone shakes me. "Stella! Stella please…" I open my eyes to see myself in a dark room with a few candles gleaming, and a figure standing above me. I can't make out the face, but the voice sounds familiar. Something cold is on my forehead, and suddenly I get a sharp pain underneath. I groan and the person sighs. "Thank God you're alright."  
"Where am I?"  
"Safe."  
"What happened?"  
"You got mugged. But you're safe now."  
"Who are you?"  
"It doesn't really matter. I'm nobody." Then it comes to me. "John?" He kneels down beside the bed and moves his hand onto mine, wrapping his around it. "Yes?" I don't know why, but I start to cry again, harder than before. He squeezes my hand tighter. "It's alright, everything is going to be fine now. You're safe." I take a deep breath and relax a little bit. "John?" I whimper. "Yes?" The door creaks open and the lights flash on. John jumps back and releases my hand and falls to the ground, putting his hand to his chest. "God, Mimi! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I sit up a little bit to see who's standing at the door, but a my head starts to throb again, which makes me lie down again immediately. The woman strolls into the room, and in her arms she's holding a tray full of medicine. John sits cross-legged on the rug below and rocks back and forth slowly, like a little child. The woman sets the tray down on the nightstand next to the bed and she glances in my direction. "Oh, you're awake. Lovely." She turns to her tray of remedies and starts unscrewing a cap of thick liquid. I shiver at the look of it. John groans and throws his head back. He straightens himself out again and clears his throat. "Miss McKenzie, this is my Auntie, Mimi. Mimi, Miss McKenzie." She doesn't even peek in my direction, and I mutter a small 'hi'. John shakes his head and sighs. Mimi turns around with a big spoonful of the red medicine. "Open up." Her bony face looks very fragile, and her tight curls sit upon her head perfectly, not one hair out of place. She's so unlike John, it's hard to imagine that she's even related to him. I open my mouth hesitantly, but as soon as I do, she shoves it in. I start to gag, and somehow I manage to get it down. I cringe. "Open." She says in a flat voice. "Umm…" Her face grows even more stern than before. "I said, open." I open my mouth and she looks inside. "Good. It'll help." John smirks and rolls his eyes. "Um, pardon me for asking, but, what happened exactly, and how did I get here?" Mimi clears her throat and turns towards me. "Well, you decided to fall asleep under a cherry tree near the bad side of town, and then a group of three boys came along, took all your things, and started beating you to death. You didn't wake up because one of them managed to drop your stack of books on your head and they were about to slit your throat until John came along…" John shakes his head and moans. "Mimi, they weren't going to slit her throat. And, they weren't going to kill her. I'm not a hero." Mimi purses her lips and continues. "Anyways, John came along and saw, took his bag and emptied out his books, then threw them at the boys. He then took you back to our home and here you are. Your head was gushing blood and we,"  
"You." John interrupts. Mimi scowls and goes on. "I thought that you were dead at first, but John insisted that you were still breathing. And here you are." Then, to my horror, Mimi pulls out a needle. My eyes widen, and so do John's. He grabs her arm and she looks at him in shock. "John! What has gotten into you?" He shakes his head. "No! You're not putting that bloody thing into her!"  
"Do you WANT her to get an infection and die? I've put enough effort into this girl already! If you want, I can just throw her out on the road! Maybe she'll be hit by a car! She's not my responsibility! She's not my child!" John's face turns scarlet. "Well I'm not either!" Mimi goes deathly pale. "Now John, you know you didn't mean that." He bites his lip. "I don't know, it sounds like I did." She drops the needle and walks out of the room. "LET HER DIE THEN! I COULDN'T CARE LESS! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTED TO TAKE HER HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!" John just sits on the carpet, stunned. Then, he stands up and sits on the chair Mimi was perched on before. He shakily reaches for the needle lying on the bed beside me and puts on his glasses. He looks up at me with a small smile and holds up the needle. "You know I have to do this, right? I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not letting you die. I nod, and smile back. He reads the instructions over and over again, and then finally picks it up again. "Okay. On the count of three, ready?" He winces and then holds it up to my arm. "One… Two…" I prepare myself for the prick. It's a big needle, and I'm petrified. I've never liked shots. "Three." I take a sharp breath and squeeze my eyes tight. But it's not the needle I feel. Instead, I feel John's soft lips on mine, and my heart flutters. I don't even think twice about Cynthia. After a few seconds, he releases me and draws back slowly. For a second, I feel in true love, and then it hits me. Cynthia is back at her house, madly in love with a boy who just kissed another girl. My eyes widen, and so do his, as he thinks about what he's just done. I stand up and the ice pack slides onto the bed as I race out of the house as fast as I can, taking my things along the way. "Stella, wait!" I don't pay attention. I slam the door and run down the street back to my house, head throbbing badly.  
I lay on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, unable to comprehend my emotions. I play with the ring around my finger and move it back and forth, back and forth. The phone is ringing constantly on the table, and I know it's John on the other end, praying I'll pick up.  
After what seems like years, the door opens and in walks my Mum, hair pulled back into a bun. She sets her things down in the entryway and clears her throat. "Hey Honey, how was your day?" She moves into the kitchen and runs the kettle under the sink, preparing tea. I don't answer. I can't answer. I can't get the thought of John Lennon out of my head.

I KNOW I DON'T OWN THE BEATLES YOU EVIL DISCLAIMER :crazy eyes: Yup well theres that its coming along nicely aint it

Beatlemania9 reserves rights of Stella!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3: Nowhere Man**_

I don't see John again for another six months. He has been skipping classes with ease, and he always wriggles out of lettering class, most likely because of me.  
The classroom is busy pasting posters on the walls of the school and setting up decorations for the year's school dance. The hallways are strung with multi-colored streamers and littered with confetti everywhere. I'm in the middle of putting up a poster when Cynthia skips over and sprinkles confetti over my head. I smile and go back to putting up posters.  
"So are you going to the dance tonight?" She asks, leaning up against the wall. I shrug a shoulder. "Yeah, I guess so." Cynthia bends down and gives me another poster laying on the floor. "Well that's nice! Who are you going with?" I tape a corner of the poster onto the wall. "Nobody, I just figure that I'll meet up with some friends while I'm there. You?" I wince as I know what I've gotten myself into by asking that.  
"Oh, John's taking me." I turn towards her and lean up against the wall as she does. "Oh… how… how is he?" She raises an eyebrow. "He's fine. Same as always."  
"That bad, huh?" She hits me playfully in the arm. "You know it."  
We don't say anything for a few minutes, and she bites her lip.  
"Well, I ought to get going. See you at the dance?" I nod. "Yeah, see you." And as easy as she came, she left. I roll my eyes and turn back to the poster, but the rainbow colors don't seem as happy anymore. They seem to be mocking me.

I get home later than usual, and have to race into my closet to find the beautiful frilly short black dress I have been waiting for an occasion like this to wear. I change and curl my hair so that it bounces when I walk, and carefully apply makeup to my face. Once I'm finished, I walk downstairs and slip on my black high-heels and walk into the kitchen. I rumage through the drawers and find a pen and a piece of paper to leave a note for my Mum. I close the door behind me and set off for the party.  
I open the doors to the school and see the hundreds of kids lining the halls, moving their way into the gathering room, where the dancing is. I squeeze my way through people, and run into a few on the way. Most of the group is paired up, girlfriend with boyfriend, and I feel awkward standing alone.  
I soon find Phyl and we start talking together, it turns out that she came alone as well. I excuse myself for a minute and walk over to the bathroom. I'm nearly there when I feel someone grab my arm. I turn around and see John standing there with a pale face.  
"Umm… Hi?" I say, glancing down at his hand wrapped around my arm.  
"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" I look over my shoulder and follow him into the hallway, away from the group. To my surprise, he finds a hall where there is hardly anybody there. "Yes?" I whisper.  
"I want you to meet my band."  
I'm taken aback by this, and shake my head.  
"Why?" He shrugs and looks around uncertainly.  
"Because I think you'll like them. Listen, I can't be your boyfriend, you know that."  
I wriggle my arm free of his hand.  
"And what makes you think that I want that?"  
He frowns. "That's besides the point. C'mon."  
He grabs my wrist and pulls me down the hallway and out the door.  
"John! John, stop it! Where are we going?"  
He gives me a crazy smile. "On a magical mystery tour. You weren't having that much fun at the dance anyways, were you? All alone, no guy with you, it's not like I took you away from your love."  
My heart drops at this, even though I know it's true.  
He pulls me onto a bus and gives the lady behind the wheel a few coins. We head up the stairs and grab onto a pole as the bus jolts to a start.  
Four boys are sitting at the end of the bus in the back seat, dressed in leather and smoking cigarettes.  
John yanks my arm towards them and before I know it, we're next to the boys and John's grinning.  
"Hey fellas, this is Stella, y'know, the girl I mentioned?"  
My face turns bright red as the whole lot of them turn in my direction and look me over.  
A boy with big brown eyes smiles a little bit, a boy with big cheekbones smirks, and a boy with Elvis-style hair winks. The boy hidden in the back of them all shows no expression what-so-ever, with his salad bowl-like hair.  
"Stella, this is Stu Sutcliffe. Stu, Stella." The salad bowl-haired boy holds out his hand and I shake it. "Hey."  
"And this is Pete Best…" The Elvis-wannabe shakes my hand firmly.  
"This is George Harrison, Georgie, Stella." He smiles a little and shakes my hand. "And, last but not least, Paul McCartney." The boy with the big brown eyes gives a big smile and holds my hand while he shakes.  
"Nice to meet you. Is your real name Stella?" I nod.  
"Yeah… it is. Is your name Paul?" He laughs, and shakes his head. "Actually, no. It's James. But it's my Dad's name so…"  
"Nobody really cares, Paulie." John interrupts, and I smack him across the face as hard as I can. All of the boys "Ohhh!" except for Paul, he just turns bright red.  
"I care, Lennon. Don't answer for me." I snap, and John moves to the seat to my right.  
I stand up and take Paul's hand gently and he stands up with me. "Come on Paul, let's go somewhere they can't bother us. The gits."  
I turn to George and smile at him. "Do you want to come too?" He looks at his friends and nods, standing up with us.  
I turn around at John, Pete and Stu.  
"When you boys learn to be nice, come find us.  
"Where will you be, your highness, when we need you most dearly?"  
I stick up my middle finger and their eyes widen.  
"In the sky with diamonds."  
Then, without saying another word, I get off of the bus with Paul and George__


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: CONFETTI PALOOZA!**_

The night air around the three of us is warm, like all summer nights, and it feels good to be outside and free of John, Stu and Pete. We walk on the side of the road, without saying a word.

"Well, I hardly know you two…" I say, trying to break the ice. They just nod without even looking in my direction. I nod as well and sigh.

"I'd like to." They stop this time and turn to look at me with their big brown eyes. I feel my heart flutter a bit in spite of myself.

"And why on earth would a girl like you want to know two boys like us? I bet you don't live in the working-class part of Liverpool. I bet you have a nice little house where the robins sing and there isn't a damn person who would even think to jump you," Paul says, his eyebrows lowered. I can't think of anything to say to this, and George looks exactly like I feel. Surprised and startled.

Paul shakes his head and sits down on the curb.

"Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, getting all jumpy. I'm not like that, honest. I guess I'm still a little angry about the guy who took my watch.

I sit down next to him, and George sits on the other side of me. I turn to George. "You don't talk much, do you?" His face breaks out in a smile, and soon both Paul and George are laughing. Their laugh makes me smile, it sounds funny.

We talk for a long while, sitting on the curb, and before we know it, it's already pitch black around us.

"Well, it's getting late, and I can't even see you guy's faces anymore…"

"Yeah, it is. Are you going to school tomorrow, Georgie?" Paul asks.

"Nah, I'm not up for it. You?"

"Nope. I'm done with that place. I'm hopeless. Not as hopeless as John though. He never shows up."

"He doesn't have a reason to anymore."

I see a glowing flame and a cigarette move through it. Then I realize that it's George smoking.

"George, how old are you?"

"Fifteen. Why?"

"Just wondering. How about you Paul?"

"Sixteen. You?"

"Sixteen." George drops his cigarette and swears as the glow on the end of it sizzles out in a puddle.

Paul laughs. "Oh. Wait, if you're sixteen how are you in art college?"

I shrug. "I got moved. I still really don't know all of the details exactly."

"Mmm."

"Well, I better be going, it's getting really late and I promised my Mum I'd be back soon. Not that she cares."

Paul turns to me.

"What do you mean she doesn't care?"

I sigh.

"Well she adopted me and apparently she thinks that if she adopts a kid that they will just take care of themselves and clean up around the house. Most of the time she pretends I'm not there, I think. It's really rare that she even shows any affection to me. The last time that happened was about a year ago."

George looks troubled.

"Well if she wasn't going to take care of you, then why did she even adopt you?"

"Because it was this Christian organization and she wanted to be looked upon as a good person who took in poor orphans. So she took her pick when some kids came to the church."

"Well she must have picked the prettiest one." Paul whispers, but I can hear him quite clearly. I feel myself blush and I smile to myself.

"Thanks, Paul." He's probably red too, but I can't see through the blackness.

"Anyways, I really have to go." I stand up.

"Yeah, see you." Paul says.

"Or not." George mutters.

"I hope." Paul replies again, followed by a yelp from George.

"Bye you guys!" I call as I walk down the street.

"Wait!" Paul cries and chases after me. He grabs me by my shoulders and stops me dead in my tracks.

"What?" I say, startled.

"Do you have a phone at your house?"

I nod slowly.

"Can I have your number? You know, for if I want to talk to someone."

"Sure, Paul. Do you have paper?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece and a pen.

"Make sure to write on the back though."

I look at him curiously and then unfold the paper carefully. I see music staffs drawn on one side, with little music notes delicately dotted on them. Underneath there is little words, and with the quick glance I get, I see the title at the top, followed by the words: "Written by Paul McCartney".

Paul snatches the paper and turns it around, then hands it back to me.

"You don't need to see that."

"But… you write music?"

"Yeah. It's nothing special. Not really."

I look around Paul and notice that George is gone. He probably has gotten tired of waiting for Paul and set off.

"Nothing special? You write music! What kind?"

Paul shakes his head. I remember what I was doing, and scribble my number down. He reaches out for it, but I turn around and flip the paper.

"I Lost My Little Girl…"

Paul jumps on me and I fall into the grass, him landing on top of me.

"What kind of music is it? You didn't answer my question."

"Rock 'N' Roll." My eyes grow wide.

"You write that stuff! I absolutley love Rock N' Roll! Especially,"

"Elvis." We say in unison.

"Sing it for me." I say, sitting up.

He props himself up on one elbow.

"No…"

"I haven't heard you sing before. Wait… Paul McCartney? You play at the Casbah, don't you?"

"Yeah?"

"I've heard that you're amazing! I never got to come down and see you guys though! Wait… You're the Silver Beetles, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we are!" He says, excitement in his voice.

"And you're Paul! The one everybody's in love with!"

"They are? You're kidding me!"

I shake my head.

"I swear. You should come around the Art College sometime. Everybody's talking about you. And they're two years older. You're a heartthrob, my friend."

I can tell he's beaming.

"Alright, you want to hear my song? Or Elvis?"

"Can I have both?"

Paul laughs and I grin ear to ear.

"Yeah, sure, it doesn't sound the same though without a guitar… you'll have to come by the Casbah sometime!"

"Yeah, I will, won't I? I've gotta see you!"

He laughs again. "Alright then, here we go."

He begins on his song 'I Lost My Little Girl' and then 'Heartbreak Hotel'. Then he goes on, singing 'Long Tall Sally', 'That'll Be The Day', and a few that he wrote, 'In Spite Of All The Danger', 'Like Dreamers Do' and 'I Saw Her Standing There'.

He says that he just wrote that song, and I ask him to teach me the lyrics. And before we know it, we're lying in the grass singing that song repeatedly.

As we sing and talk and laugh, I notice something. Paul is a real person. Not like my 'Mum', my teacher, Cynthia, Phyl, John, George, Pete and Stu. Paul is real. We see each other almost every day after that night, and soon, Paul McCartney becomes my best friend


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5: Mother **_

One night, about a half a year later after meeting Paul, I get home a little later than usual after seeing him.

I creak open the door and slide my body inside, my skirt getting caught in the door.

As soon as I'm through, I flick on a light and jump to see my "Mother" peering up at me over one of her romantic fiction books, her glasses on the rim of her nose like a librarian, sitting in her rocking chair.

She crosses her legs and leans back, a sly grin creeping across her face. I shut the door behind me and back up against it.

"Hello, Mother, what are you doing up at this late hour?" I say, in the proper way I'm supposed to talk to her, according to her many rules.

She sets down her book and stands up, walking over to me.

"Excuse me for asking, but where were you and why were you late?"

As much as I want to scream, I don't, I just keep quiet, as if I don't understand the question.

"Who were you with?"

I clear my throat.

"I was paying a visit to my Grandmother." I say, my voice hushed.

"LIES!" She yells, which makes me jump.

"What do you mean?"

"You were not with your Grandmother! I phoned her over an hour ago! How dare you lie to me! How dare you! I demand to know who you were with!"

My face drains of it's color and my eyes shoot to my feet. Then she backs up.

"You were with boys, weren't you?"

I don't answer, I just continue looking at my feet, like they've become very interesting.

"Talk to me Stella! As your mother I have a right to know!"

I pick my head up and look her straight in the eye.

"Alright, you want to know? Yes, I was with a boy."

Her face flushes and she bites her lip. Then, very quickly, she yanks my arm and pushes me onto the couch, where I sink into the cushions, too afraid to move. She drops on the cushion next to me and I turn to look at her slowly.

"Stella, how many times do I have to tell you? Boys are bad. You are too young to be attacked by their disgusting ways, their foul habits, and their rude behavior! They will take you and use you as a slave! They will only break your heart and use you to make money and to show you off for your beauty! You will be looked upon as a fool! You are NOT a fool, Stella. Don't pretend you are. Boys are vicious and cruel…"

"NOT ALL ARE LIKE THAT!" I scream, letting the anger that has been bubbling up inside of me for my whole life out. She looks taken aback.

"I KNOW A BOY WHO'S LOVELY! HE'S SWEET, HE'S CHARMING, HE'S HANDSOME, HE'S TALENTED, HE'S LOVING AND HE'S NOT ONE BIT CRUEL AND VICIOUS! HE WOULDN'T HURT A FLY! HE WOULDN'T PUNCH ME FOR A BILLION POUNDS! HE'D RATHER DIE THAN HURT ME! AND BESIDES, HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT HE'S NOT JUST A FRIEND? BECAUSE THAT'S ALL HE IS! A FRIEND!"

She opens her mouth to speak, but I keep going.

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BOYS ANYWAYS? WHERE'S THE FATHER IN THIS HOUSE? I DON'T THINK THERE'S BEEN A BOY IN THIS HOUSE FOR OVER A MILLION YEARS, SENSE THAT'S HOW OLD YOU ARE! HOW DO YOU THINK IT IS FOR ME, SAYING THAT I DON'T HAVE A DAD IN MY HOUSE, AND MY MUM IS A FAKE! A BLOODY FAKE! SHE JUST TOOK ME IN TO GET MONEY! IS THAT ALL I AM TO YOU? YOU SOUND LIKE THE DISCRIPTION OF BOYS TO ME! I THINK I'D BE BETTER OFF WITH PAUL MCCARTNEY THAN WITH YOU!"

Then I stop, dead in my tracks at the mention of his name. A thin smile appears on her lips as she reaches out for my arm. She moves her thumb back and forth across my skin softly.

"So that's this boy's name? Paul McCartney?"

I'm trembling from yelling so much.

"Yes, that's his name. You can't do anything to him, you evil woman."

She smiles and gazes down at my arm. She reaches into her pocket and takes out her cigarette lighter and feels it around in her hand.

"I don't want you seeing him anymore."

I shake my head. "You can't stop me."

She clears her throat. "I said I don't want you seeing him anymore."

Again I shake my head. "No."

"No?" She says in a whisper.

"No." I repeat.

She sighs. "I didn't want to have to do this to you, Stella, but you leave me no choice."

She flicks the cigarette lighter on and holds it so it's touching my skin. The little flame licks my arm, and the pain surges through my arm.

I scream and try to move my arm away, but it's no use.

The smell is almost unbearable and I cough to escape it.

Finally, after what seems like years, she flicks the flame off and pulls me into the bathroom. There is a small mark where the flame has burned my skin, and I try not to look at it, because it only makes it hurt more.

She reaches into the cupboard behind the mirror and pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab.

I struggle to get away, but she keeps her grip. She then dips the swab into the bottle and drops it where she burned me.

I scream at the top of my lungs as the burning sensation surges up my arms and around my body.

Tears run down my cheeks and she just sits there with a blank expression.

Then, she takes it off and throws it away, putting the alcohol back into the cupboard and drags me upstairs into my bedroom, where she locks the door without saying a word, leaving me alone.

I bang on the door for a while, and then realize that I'm not sure if I want to go down there again. I decide to go to the window, but it's too high up to jump.

I look at my arm and let the tears fall down my cheeks. I desperately want to talk to Paul, George, John or even Pete or Stu, to tell them what my horrible "Mother" has done. I want them to know, so they would call the police and take her off to jail.

I visualize the scene over and over in my head.

My emotions are getting to my head and making me top-heavy, so I change into my nightgown and tuck myself under the covers, falling asleep quickly, waiting for my saviors.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6: For no one**_

It's been around three months I think, and I've grown tired of staying in the same room, not talking to anybody but my mother, although I try to hide it. I want her to think that I'm not budging, that I will do whatever it takes to see them again.

I awake by my Mother opening the door and locking it behind her as she enters. In one hand is a plate with toast and jam on it, and the other has a glass of orange juice. She sits down beside me on the bed and hands me the breakfast.

She smiles and lights a cigarette, and I can't help but flinch at the sight of the lighter. She slips it back in her pocket and takes a long drawl on her cigarette.

"Don't you ever try one of these, Stella. You have one, and you just can't stop. These are the devil."

I don't answer; I just bite down on my toast.

"Your friends called. Wanted to know where you are," She smiles slyly. "I wasn't able to address them correctly, however. I thought that maybe you could inform me on their names."

I'm about to tell her no, but then I remember a few months ago, and I stop.

"What did the first boy's voice sound like?" I mutter. She shrugs.

"Just tell me all of their names."

I bite my lip. "Paul," I start, but she shakes her head.

"Full names."

I roll my eyes. "Jacob Lester, Harry Lane, Paul McCartney, Richard Rockwell and David Forester."

She gives a smile of satisfaction.

"Thank you. I might look into them. You know, if you just promise me that you won't go after them, I can let you downstairs."

I shake my head. "No. I will stay until I can."

She raises and lowers a shoulder. "Suit yourself."

She closes the door and locks it once more, and I listen as she walks down the steps and then I break out laughing about how foolish she was. John, Paul, George, Stu and Pete are all fine, and they will be. I just pray that she doesn't go after Paul. I would make up a name for him as well, but she already knows him. I just hope that they come find me soon.

The next morning I awake to find my Mum standing in the doorway, frowning.

"Your friends called again." She says, and I find it hard to read her expression. "What did you say?"

"I told them that you weren't allowed to answer the phone, because you were grounded in your room," she goes on. "And when they begged to talk to you for just one minute, I declined, saying that the only way that you were using the phone was to contact your professors."

Silence.

"And then I hung up."

I nod.

"They didn't have much time to talk, they said they were calling from Germany. They also said to send you their love, and they will be back in two days. Apparently they have been gone for a few months."

"Which one did you talk to?" I ask, instantly regretting it.

"Oh, I talked to them all. They also said they'd try calling back tomorrow, because they have good news for you to hear."

I don't say anything at first, but then answer.

"Will you let me hear their news? It would make me happy, and maybe I wouldn't complain as much."

I try to hide the pleading sound in my voice, even though I'm desperate to hear their voices again.

She scowls. "And what makes you think that I'll let you?"

I shrug. "Forget it. Just go downstairs and read your stupid fantasy stories."

She raises an eyebrow and walks downstairs hesitantly.

The first thing I feel in the morning is my Mother shaking me.

"Get up, you lazy girl. Your professor is on the phone and wants to talk to you about homework."

I yawn and stretch my arms around my head.

"Which one?" She straightens herself up.

"Professor Best."

My heart thumps against my chest so hard I worry that she heard it.

I don't know a Professor Best. I only know Pete Best.

I sit up and get out of bed on wobbly knees as she hurries me downstairs.

It feels strange to walk again downstairs, and not just pacing the bedroom floor.

I look across the living room at the phone on the table, and hobble towards it.

"I wrote down the number he told me to use to call you back. Now I trust that you'll be responsible. I'm locking you inside while I'm out at the store."

I try not to smile at my luck. Then, she grabs her purse, steps outside and locks the door.

I can't dial the phone quick enough. My fingers move faster than they ever have, and I impatiently wait as the phone rings. Then I hear Pete's voice.

"Hello?"

"Pete! It's Stella!" I hear a couple of random outbursts from the other line, and a ton of cheering.

"Stella! It's Pete! Is your Mum home?"

"No, I'm happy to say she's not! So what's going on, what's the big news? I miss you guys a ton…" I talk so fast, I run my words together, and I hear their voices on the other end, talking over each other's.

"Here, we'll talk to you one at a time."

"Hey, Miss McKenzie… what did you get grounded for?" John. God, it's lovely to hear his voice. Then I remember what I need to tell them.

"Oh! Okay, you guys need to help me! She's keeping me here against my will, locked in my bedroom! She says that I can't talk to you guys anymore, and she burned my arm, then covered it with alcohol! There's still a scar, and I'm afraid she'll do it again if I'm not saved. This is the first time that I've been downstairs in three months, and I'm pretty sure that it's against the law, right? She can go to jail for child abuse, right? You guys have got to call the cops on her! Please!"

John makes a shushing noise, and talks in a calm voice.

"Okay, it's alright. It looks like you have a real bastard over there, and we'll get you out of this. And dammit, so help me, I will get my hands on that bitch and burn her face up like…" John's voice breaks away and is replaced by the rustling of the phone.

Then George's voice appears.

"Hey Stell-a!" He says, and I tell him everything.

"THAT FUCKIN' BITCH!" He yells in reply, and I'm startled to hear that kind of thing from George, and not John. The phone rustles again and another voice chirps in my ear.

"Hi, Stella-Bella!" Paul says cheerily.

"Don't worry, we'll get that bastard if it's the last thing we do. You know, it's New Year's Eve tomorrow, right? We'll come and get you with a boatload of cops tomorrow, and it will be a new year with a free Stella. How does that sound?"

"Great. I miss you a lot… what's the good news?"

Paul's voice gets really jumpy all of a sudden.

"Oh! We landed a recording contract with George Martin! You know, that man who declined us before? Well, he likes us now, and he wants us to come in! And we have some more news… not that great… But we're sacking Pete."

"What… why?" I say, somewhat disappointed.

"Because our manager, y'know, Brain Epstien, he wanted a new drummer, someone with more talent. He mentioned Ringo Starr."

I don't reply, and some of the words are breaking off.

"Well, we really ought to go… this man who's hired us is gonna come in here and burn OUR arms if we don't get in there and put on a show… I'll see you tomorrow, and you won't see your "Mum", believe me. George is saying that you can stay with his family for a bit, y'know, as a foster family, or somethin'. That sound good, Stella Bella?"

The line is getting really hard to hear from, and I'm disappointed to know that our conversation will end shortly.

"Oh, and one more thing Stella," Paul whispers.

"Yeah, Paulie?" He takes a deep breath.

"You won't laugh?" His voice cracks a little.

"I promise, now what is it?"

"I think I… kind of… love you. Do you… love me back?"

I'm about to respond when the phone entirely stops transmitting and the irritating sound of the phone beeping fills my ear.

My heart stops for a second as I clutch the receiver to my chest, and I fall back on the couch and let my smile show as much as it can, until my cheeks cramp.

Then, I hear my mum unlocking the door, and I run upstairs and lay on my bed, pretending to be asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7: A little help,**_

The next thing I know in the morning is the sound of the door opening and lots of footsteps traveling inside of our home.

Then, my door opens and in walks three raggedy looking boys, hair hanging over their foreheads, arms outstretched.

I get out of bed and run into their arms, becoming one huge hugging fest. We sway back and forth in the hug and we don't let go for what seems like years.

I bury my nose in their jackets that smell of fresh air, and never want to leave.

All too soon, we let go and I stand there and run a hand through George's hair.

"What did you do to your hair?" I say, curious.

"It's a mop-top, as Brian calls it. It's gonna be our signature look. What do you think?" John says, beaming.

I smile and let out a little laugh. "It's definitely going to take some getting used to," I say. "So where's Pete and Stu…"

"Stu left us for his girlfriend and for art. And Pete's gone. We'd like you to meet someone too…"

John turns towards the door and in walks a boy with a matching haircut, a little bit shorter than the rest of them, with blue eyes that sparkle and a nose that looks to be too big for his face.

"Is this…"

"Ringo Starr. Ringo, this is Stella." He holds out his hand and I shake it.

"She's a little bit strange compared to us." John says to Ringo with a wink.

I blush a little, in spite of myself.

"Well, shall we head downstairs then?" George says, leaning against the wall coolly. "Mmhm." John and Ringo say in unison, and walk out the door.

When John sees that Paul and I don't follow, he turns around and stops in the doorway.

"You guys alright?" We nod, and John backs away uncertainly.

"Okay, but hurry up. I want to get out of this place… it gives me the creeps."

Then he disappears down the stairs.

Paul jams his hands into his pockets and turns to face me.

"You wanna follow…"

"Yeah…" I say awkwardly, and we walk down the stairs.

To my surprise, I don't see any police, and my Mum is sitting on the couch, holding a clipboard and pen, smiling at me.

John and George are sitting next to her, and Ringo is un-wrapping a chocolate kiss from the glass dish on the table.

"So these are your friends, yes?" She says, looking around. "Nice boys, aren't they?" I notice that all of them have their hands folded in their laps like gentlemen.

"Now, I believe that there is some signing in order," She pushes the clipboard in my direction.

"You won't be in my care any longer."

I look up over the document in my hands at the faces looking back at me.

"Who will I live with?" I say unsteadily.

"Well, if you sign it, you will be living with the Harrison family, who I believe is in the kitchen…" She peeks around the corner, and to my surprise, five people come out.

An older couple, followed by three teenagers, who look to be older than George by at least four years.

The woman's face breaks out into a smile at first glance, and she gives a little wave. I wave back, looking from her to George.

He stands up and motions his family to come closer.

"Stella, this is my Mother, Louise." He says, and the woman pulls me into a hug. I can hear snickering behind me, and George's face goes red with embarrassment.

"And this is my Father, Harold." The skinny man holds out a hand and I shake it, which makes him beam.

"And my siblings," he rolls his eyes. "This is Harry, Peter, and my sister Louise."

I smile, but George scowls.

"Don't worry about them… they're gone most of the time. All out of the house with their OWN lives…" he shoots an angry glance at the three of them.

The woman whispers something in her husband's ear, and he pulls her close, both beaming at me.

"Guys… can I talk to you for a second? Excuse us," I say, dragging John, Paul, George and Ringo into the kitchen.

"What's going on here?" I whisper, looking around at their grinning faces.

"Well, we tried calling the cops, and apparently burning your child is not a crime in this fuckin' town. So, we just went to a, well, I'm not sure what you call it… and asked if we could borrow some documents, and then got together with George's family, and pretty much took off from there." John explains. "Isn't it great?"

I think about it a second.

"Yeah, it's absolutely amazing! But how did you get my Mother to sign the documents? She wouldn't just sign me over like that… would she?"

Ringo shakes his head. "No, she was really crazy at first, chucked a coffee coaster at me." He points to a mark on his cheek that's already turning purple.

"But we bribed her."

I raise an eyebrow. "With what?"

Paul pulls a ticket out of his pocket gently and hands it to me.

I feel the ticket around in my hands. It has a picture of a sandy beach where the sun is shining, palm trees everywhere, and hidden behind them is a cruise ship.

"You guys bought this!" I ask, not looking away from the shiny ticket. "With the money you earned in Germany?"

"No, actually, it was only one of us."

I look them over. All of the boys are wearing new leather jackets and boots, and look to be well fed, except for Paul. He's wearing the same thing he always does, and he looks to have lost a few pounds from last time I saw him.

"Paul…" I say, looking up into his big brown eyes, which seem to twinkle. I look down at the ticket and then back at him, letting the smile break loose on my face.

I jump into his arms and meet my mouth to his, giving him a long kiss. He moves his arms around me and I do the same to him, and we sway back and forth.

The other three boys fall silent behind us, and I can tell they're in shock.

We release each other, and he runs his fingers through my hair. Then we start to giggle.

"I think I love you too." I whisper, and we're about to kiss again, when John clears his throat. We turn around to face him.

"Sorry to break up the party guys, but we should really have the papers signed so we can get the hell out of here. You can kiss all night… it's new year's eve."

We go back into the living room and take a seat, in my case on Paul's lap.

My Mother shoves the clipboard in my direction. "Come on, then. We don't have all day."

I take it, and with shaky hands, write my name down on the paper.

Then the next, then the next, then the next.

Once I'm finished, I feel for Paul's hand and wrap mine around his.

"Now we all have to go to the stupid place again and sign another five hundred papers in front of another person. Great." John moans.

"We'll come back for your things, dear." George's Mum says, scruffing up my hair. I take a deep breath and follow everyone out the door and into the car.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8: Drive my Car**_

Before I know it, I'm at my old house again, packing up my things with everybody else, which isn't much, if you think about it.

"So you're my Mum now?" I ask Mrs. Harrison for about the millionth time. I can see it in her eyes that she's grown weary of answering that, but she still smiles and says 'yes'.

All of the Harrison's get into this tiny little car somehow, and they stick their heads out the window, waiting for George and I to get in as well.

"Well, I guess we'll be seeing you at the New Year's party tonight at Ivan's place, right?" John says, and I'm about to ask who he is when Paul answers the question for me. "I'll pick you guys up at around 10:00 tonight. Sound good?"

"Yeah, great." We reply, jumping at the sound of a car horn behind us.

"Well, we ought to go. See you at 10:00."

I walk over and give Paul one last hug before chasing after George to the car. I wave as the three boys and Ms. McKenzie as they grow smaller and smaller.

Mrs. Harrison, known as 'Mum' now, peeks at me through the rearview mirror.

"Is everything alright back there, honey? You look depressed." I shrug and meet her eyes through the mirror.

"No, I'm fine. Just a little bit dazed by it all. You know, it's all happening so quickly."

She nods and smiles. "Yes, I don't blame you the least. It's a new family, and you just left everything you knew. You only have known us for a few hours, with the exception of Georgie."

George's face flushes pink. "Mum, don't call me that."

Mrs. Harrison winks at me, which makes me smile. George glances at my hand, then looks at his own, and sets it in his lap again.

When his dark brown eyes flash in my direction, I turn away, pretending I didn't see. And anyways, it wouldn't really work if he liked me. I'm his sister, right? And I'm dating Paul. I think. This whole day has been a blur, and I lean my head on the damp window, looking outside as we pass meadows and fields, and to my surprise, out of Liverpool.

The countryside seems so peaceful as we ride along the winding dirt road, that I don't even notice my eyes sliding shut.

I open my eyes a little bit to see that the ground is gone beneath me. I think about it a second, and then realize that I'm being carried.

I'm taken through doors and up a few steps and then placed gently on a bed. I feel the warmth of a quilt being pulled over me.

Then I hear a voice singing softly and beautifully, a voice I've never heard before. The accent slides through every note perfectly, and it sounds like something you'd hear in a dream, I'm not lying.

I open my eyes a little bit and smile at George, who's sitting on the bed beside me, face bright red from being caught singing.

I prop myself up on an elbow and turn to face him. "George, that was amazing."

He shakes his head, his eyes darting around the room.

"No really. Where did you learn to sing like that?" He scratches the back of his head.

"I guess I just taught myself."

I grin and pull the covers off of me, swinging my feet to the edge of the bed and letting them dangle.

"So George, who are you going with to the party tonight?" He smiles a toothy grin. "My girlfriend."

I stand up and put my hands on my hips to stop him from escaping me.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend! Who is it?"

He sits on his hands and sways from side to side.

"Iris Caldwell."

I bite my lip, concentrating on trying to remember her face. Then it hits me. I see the wavy brown hair and the cute dress.

"Rory's sister?"

George nods. "Yeah, you know her?"

"Mmhm! I went to school with her one year. She was in my class." George gives a small smile and looks outside, into the fading sun.

"I think it's about time to eat, we don't want to be late for Paul, do we?"

I shake my head and follow George to the kitchen.

I look outside my bedroom window while running my fingers through my hair, looking down at my little dress I wore the day I met Paul. I thought that it might make him smile. It seems that someone pulled a black curtain around the town of Liverpool, it's that dark. Someone knocks on the door, and I walk downstairs, meeting George and Paul by the doorway. Paul has on the exact same thing as George, and it makes me a little curious.

"Why are you guys wearing the…" Paul frowns.

"We've been asked,"

"Begged." George interrupts him.

Paul stops and gives George an annoyed look.

"Sorry, begged to perform a few songs when we get there, for about a half an hour. I'm really sorry, I'll try to make it up to you. I just need a little bit of money, so I can get you…"

I put my finger to his lips. "You don't need to get me anything more. You got me out of that house, and you got me a wonderful boyfriend. I can't ask for anything more. And I don't care the least that you're performing. I think it's great, now that you've got yourselves a manager, and a producer's looking at you. You're really getting noticed, and that's brilliant. It's only fair that you go up and show your talent off to the world." Paul gives a small smile.

"You mean Liverpool?" I shake my head.

"Elvis had to start somewhere, didn't he?" Paul thinks about this a minute.

"You mean you support my musical dreams?"

I nod. "Every bit of it."

He leans in and gives me a quick kiss and then we walk outside, Paul's arm around me, and a guitar slung over George's shoulder.

We get in the car and drive off down the road, and I can't even imagine what's laying ahead for me.

"Hey guys, you ready? Girlfriends can stick together, have a few drinks while we're up. Sorry again, we've just really got to do this." John says, as they stand before me and the three other girlfriends.

It's hard to hear John's voice because the noise level is so high from all of the people and music. It's very stuffy, which makes it hard to breathe as well.

The boys slide their guitars in front of them and give us one last look before going up on stage.

The crowd's cheers are deafening, and the four of us jump at the sound made for our boyfriends.

I see Cynthia cross her arms, and although I can't hear a thing over the screaming, I can tell she's mumbling something.

Paul steps up to the microphone and clears his throat.

"Well, thank you for the, wait." The microphone seems to not be working.

He fingers it a little, and John and George come over and try to fix it.

John's mouth is moving, and then all three of them burst out laughing, probably at a clever Lennon joke that nobody can hear besides those two inches from him.

The microphone makes a horrible high-pitched screech and Paul jumps back, holding his hands in the air as surrender. The crowd laughs.

Paul smiles and steps up to the microphone again.

"Alright then. Sorry about that one. We were having some… issues. But, we're all here now, and we'd like to thank you all for that great welcome."

He strums his bass, which makes all of the girls in the room run up to the stage and scream.

Paul looks at them with wide eyes and backs up a little.

"And enough of this mushy stuff, I'll just get straight to it."

He strums his bass again.

"We're The Beatles and we're here to play you some Rock n' Roll!"

The crowd cheers again, Paul counts them off, and off they go.

Paul leans into the microphone and screams, "I'm gonna tell Aunt Mary/'Bout Uncle John/He said he had the mis'ry but he got a lot a fun…" And there was no stopping him. He was in the zone. His happy place. And watching him up there made me realize something that I never really understood until now. He's cute, he's charming, he's funny, he's talented, he's sweet, he's a heartthrob for all the girls in Liverpool, and best of all, he's mine. He's bouncing around on stage, beads of sweat trickling down his face, playing his heart out so hard, his face is bright red. Then he looks over at me and winks.

Half of the girls turn to look at me, and I turn towards Cynthia and pretend that I don't even know him.

Luckily, nobody pays any attention to me after that, and I can resume staying in the shadows.

I turn around and notice that I haven't met the short girl with long, black hair behind me. I smile at her.

"Are you Ringo's girlfriend?"

She nods and beams. "Yes!"

She shoots a glimpse at the drummer on stage.

"Are you one of their girlfriends too?" I nod, and am about to tell her when she shakes her head and rubs her temples, concentrating.

"Wait! Don't tell me!" She continues rubbing the sides of her head.

"John belongs to Cynthia… Iris is George's… and I'm Ringo's… You must be Paul's!"

I smile. "Yeah, I'm Paul's."

She grabs my shoulders and shakes me.

"Paul has a girlfriend! Paul has a girlfriend! Good for him!"

I look over my shoulder to make sure that nobody heard her yelling.

She holds out a hand. "I'm Maureen Cox, but everybody calls me Mo."

I shake her hand. "I'm Stella McKen… wait, Harrison."

Iris's ears perk up as she walks over and joins in on our conversation.

"Hi, Stella, remember me? Iris Caldwell? I'm George's girlfriend." I smile and nod, a little confused why she's all jumpy.

"Yes, I remember you. I'm Paul's girlfriend."

She raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, and I suppose you just date George on the side?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't cheat. I'm dating Paul. What makes you think that I'm going out with George?"

She glares at me. "You just called yourself Stella Harrison. What happened to McKenzie?"

I laugh out loud, in spite of myself. "Oh! Iris, calm down! I was adopted, so my last name was McKenzie. Then I was re-adopted by George's family. So now my last name is Harrison. Simple as that. I promise you, I have nothing to do with George, other than he's my friend."

She looks at me strange, and then walks away towards the bathroom.

I look at Mo for help, but she simply shrugs.

"She gets to be a bit moody. I'm sensing that George notices that too. This should be fun." She says, rolling her eyes.

I'm not sure, but I think that Mo's a pretty cool girl.

Before we know it, four sweaty boys are running our way, huge smiles on their faces. They put one of their arms around us, the other holding the neck of their guitar beside them. I turn my head at the smell of their sweat.

"I know… I'm sorry. We can go back home quick and shower…" Paul says, wrinkling up his nose, which makes me remember how adorable he is.

I shake my head. "No, you're fine." I say cheerfully, and he gives me a quick kiss. John whispers something in Cynthia's ear, and she nods.

"Alright, well I guess me and Cyn are going to try to find a bedroom. If there isn't one open, though, we might just have a quick drink and then check into a hotel or something." John says, tucking Cynthia in closer to him.

John's face lights up as he gets an idea.

"Hey! What if we all left for a hotel, checked in, had a little party of our own, and then went to our own little rooms afterward? Wouldn't that be fun?"

I look at Paul, and he looks at me and shrugs.

"You wanna do that?" He asks. I nod.

"Yeah, sounds fun."

Paul looks over at John and nods.

"McCartney's are in!"

Ringo nods.

"The Starr's are in!"

George shrugs.

"I don't know, I think we'll just stick here."

John shrugs.

"Your loss."

Iris bumps George in the arm and looks at him angrily.

John meets George's eye, and they exchange a glance, probably a whole conversation about Iris, and how pissy she's acting.

We turn to leave, and then suddenly, a horrible noise comes from behind us. I turn around and see Ringo bent over, being sick.

Mo puts her hand on his back and bends down next to him sympathetically.

"Richie, you want to go home?" She whispers, and Ringo shakes his head.

"No, I'll be fine, I don't want to ruin your night." Then, he's sick again, and Mo looks up at us and shakes her head.

"We'll figure it out. You guys go." She gives a little wave, and then walks poor Ringo over to the bathroom.

The four of us left pause, and then walk outside into the night air.

"Well, it's just us now, is it?" Paul says, looking behind him at the now tiny little club.

"Yeah, I guess, but it'll still be fun."

We walk without a word along the sidewalk for a few minutes, and then John breaks the silence.

"So are you guys gonna go at it tonight?"

Paul looks over at John in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

John smiles. "I mean, are you guys gonna sleep together?"

When Paul doesn't respond, John adds, "Have sex?"

Cynthia punches John in the arm, which makes him yelp and then giggle.

"You don't need to get into their personal business, John."

Then she pauses and whispers in his ear, like we can't hear her, even though we can quite clearly, "I don't think that either of them have ever done it before."

John smirks and nods.

"Yeah, you're right, Cyn, she's got one of those rings on her finger. You know the ones that look like they're cutting off the blood from the poor thing." John and Cynthia both glance down at my hand, and I study it too. The tiny ring shines in the dim light from the streetlamp above us.

Paul takes the hand with the little ring in his, and we walk in silence once more.

I don't really know what to do, and if Paul's ever done it before, and if I should, or if he wants to.

I can see it in his eyes that he wants to a little, just for a bit of fun, but I don't know if I want to do that. I've only gone out with Paul for a day, even though I've known him for about a year. I'm not sure if the thing that's bugging me is the concept of it all, actually, I'm sure it's not. I could care less about the concept. The only thing that bugs me is that

I'm.

Not.

Married.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9: Promise Me**_

The only memory I have of my parents is them slipping on the ring that now sits on my little finger. The only scene I have of them. The only expressions I have on their faces. The only words I know they've said. And I'm worried that one day I'll wake up and find that my only memory is gone. This is what the memory goes like.

My Mother, with her curled brown hair trying to get my attention. My Father stands behind her, holding her shoulders tightly. He gives me a little smile, and his eyes sparkle, like the way Paul's do. My Mother grabs hold of my hand and holds it in hers, moving her fingers gently up and down it.

"Stella, my love, my pride and joy, your Father and I are going to give this ring to you, and we want you to follow the rules it brings." Her eyes glimmer with tears.

"By wearing this ring, you promise that you will never give yourself to a man without being married first, and that you will stay strong and pure until you find the one who truly loves you and cares for you will all of his heart. And he would rather kill himself than ever hurt you, and will put you before himself, no matter what the cost." She sniffs and rubs her eyes.

"This is also something for you to remember us by. Never forget your real Mummy and Daddy, Stella. We love you dearly, and we will come back and find you soon, before you even know it. And we will make sure to meet your husband, and give him our blessing for you to marry. Please don't ever think we won't return. Please…"

And that's where my memory fades. Just like that. No warning, just that. And that's exactly why I'm not sure if I want to break my promise to my parents. I'm afraid that something will happen, and they won't come back for me.

I wake up the next morning to find myself sleeping on the couch in the hotel room, feeling drowsy and hung-over. The couch doesn't feel quite right, however.

I open my eyes slowly and look in front of me, at the cans of beer on the table, some crushed, some overturned, and some still in tact. I feel sick at the look of them.

Then the couch underneath me moves. I look under and to my horror, I see Paul, without a shirt on. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure if he has anything on. Or if I do. Without thinking, I scream, which makes Paul's eyes fly open, and I see the same terrified face that I must have staring back at me.

In one quick motion, I pull the robe on that's on the arm of the couch around me, and he pulls the blanket around him.

We move to separate sides of the sofa, not daring to look at each other.

"What… what happened last night?" I ask, my voice shaky. Paul shakes his head.

"I don't know… I don't know." I bite my fingernail.

"All I remember is that I felt,"

"Nice." We say in unison, meeting each other's eyes.

Then my eyes shoot to my hand, where the promise ring is gone, leaving only a red mark where it had been.

"Where's…"

Paul points to the window.

"It's all coming back to me. We threw it out the window, and then headed for the couch. I'm sorry…"

I shake my head, in some kind of trance.

"No, it's my fault. I should've been more aware."

An awkward silence creeps in the room.

Paul taps his fingers on the arm of the sofa nervously, and looks the other way, I doing the same.

I move over a little bit towards Paul, and he does the same, but we don't make eye-contact, like nothing's happening.

I move over again, and he follows my lead.

Our hands intertwine slowly, and we look at each other.

"Well, now that the ring's gone…" Paul says, giving me a wink. I smile, and before I know it, we're out the door of John and Cynthia's room, and into ours, straight into the bed once more.

When I tell John the next day, he nearly falls over laughing.

I shove my hands into my pockets of my pea coat and bite my lip.

"What's so funny? You and Cynthia do it all the time!"

John leans up against a tree and giggles. "Yeah, but I told you that it was addicting, but you gave me a dirty look. And look at you two now! You're quite the item… the McCharmly's."

I wad up a ball of snow and throw it at John with a strength that surprises me. His eyes grow wide, and he slowly bends over and wads up another chunk of snow, takes aim, and throws, straight at my stomach.

"John! I didn't hit you in the gut!" I yell, shooting him a dirty look.

"Hey, at least I don't go on walks in the park with other people's boyfriends."

I walk over to John and we continue walking along.

"You know better John, you're my best friend. Don't best friends go places with each other?"

He smiles. "I know Stella, I'm just joking. Besides, you're my best friend too."

I kick the snow in front of me with the tip of my boot.

"Paul and Cynthia know we do this, right?" I ask, looking into John's happy eyes. "Yeah, they know. Every Monday it's our day." I look at him with a smile, and he shakes his head.

"No, not that way!" He bursts out laughing his strange laugh, and a lot of heads turn our way.

I giggle and walk into his side, where he puts his arm around me. You know, the way best friends do… if they do.

"So did you talk to George about Iris?"

John shrugs. "Yeah, I did. Wait? You didn't? You live with the guy!" I give a little laugh.

"Yeah, I do, don't I? I don't know why I didn't ask, I just didn't really feel like it was any of my business."

John raises an eyebrow. "So you feel it's your business now?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, in a way. I just didn't feel like it was right for me to ask him."

John smirks at me. "Alright, well, if you must know, George broke up with the bitch," John looks up at me with a smile. "She was treating him like absolute shit, if you know what I mean."

I can't help but giggle at this.

"Yeah, she really was. Poor George though."

John's face turns solemn. "Yeah, it really was his first serious girlfriend, wasn't it?"

"You say 'it' instead of 'she'?"

He nods. "Well, yeah, that's all she is, isn't she?"

"You mean it?"

He grins and looks down at the ground, scuffing his toe on the sidewalk.

A few high-school girls look at us and giggle. John raises an eyebrow and turns to look at them.

"Hey! You! What's so funny?"

A girl with shoulder-length brown hair comes up to us and cocks her head to the side. "You're John Lennon, right? You play at the Cavern."

John nods and waits for her to go on.

"Well, I just read that John Lennon was dating Cynthia Powell. It doesn't really look like that's true, is all."

John stops her as she turns around.

"Wait, you said that you read it?" She turns around and nods.

"Mmhm, it got around that you guys were all dating. John Lennon and Cynthia Powell, Paul McCartney and Stella McKenzie…"

"I'm not Stella McKenzie anymore."

She turns her gaze towards me.

"You're not?"

I shake my head.

"No, I moved in with the Harrison's."

She smiles a sweet smile. "Sorry, Stella Harrison." Then her gaze turns cold and hard.

"So you're dating Paul?"

I nod slowly, not sure if I want to answer this question.

"Interesting." She quickly pulls out a camera from under her jacket, takes about ten pictures, and runs away.

John and I stand there, stunned by the flash, and glance at each other.

"Well, it's not such a secret anymore, is it?"

"No. I don't think it is."


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10: Banana phone!**_

Paul and I have slept together a few more times sense the beginning of 1962, and the snow is slowly melting away into spring. The Beatles have been getting together with Brian Epstien, their manager, and George Martin, who's interested in producing them. He says he sees talent in them, but he's not sure if he should jump on it yet – leaving us all on the edge of our seats.

Somehow, John also got it around that they really didn't have any girlfriends, because Brian thought that it might mess up their popularity or something. As if. They're already on top of Liverpool, and are starting to spread out into other towns around the area. Brilliant.

So here I am, at my house (or should I say, the Harrison's), when the phone rings downstairs.

I look across the living room at George, who's sprawled out on the couch, not budging.

"Are you going to get it, or not?" I mutter, somewhat irritated by the lack of sleep I got the night before, studying for a major test.

George looks around and shrugs. "Nah, I'm good."

I roll my eyes and pick up the phone in the kitchen.

"Hello, this is Stella."

"Hey Stella, this is Cynthia. I need to talk to you. Now. Meet me in the little café on 8th street." Then she hangs up the phone before I can even say anything, leaving me awkwardly holding onto the phone in a daze.

I walk over past the living room and pull on my pea coat, buttoning it up in the front.

George raises an eyebrow and looks over at me. "What'd Paul want?"

I shake my head.

"It wasn't him, it was Cynthia. She wants to talk to me, apparently badly," I shrug. "So, being the friend I am, I decided to go and not leave her worried, or confused, or whatever's wrong with her."

"That's what I've been wondering about you," George smirks.

I sigh and walk out the door and onto the sidewalk, practically running to 8th street.

The little bell hanging from the doorway jingles as I enter the cute café. I look around the room and see teenagers talking with friends, sipping tea and laughing. Then I seek out Cynthia sitting alone by the window.

Her face lights up when she sees me, even though she looks stressed. She motions me to sit, which I do, and prop my head up on my hands.

"So, what's going on, Cynthia?"

Her face drains of color. "I don't know how to put it, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. Don't freak out, alright?"

I nod hesitantly, hanging on to her every word.

"I'm pregnant."

I feel my face grow hot.

"W-what?" I mutter, trying not to freak out.

She shakes her head and hides her face in her hands.

"You heard me right, then," She rubs her temples. "What am I gonna do? It's John's child for sure. I would bet my life on it. He's the only one I've…" Her voice breaks off as the tears start running down her face.

I move my chair around the circular table and put my arm around her.

"It's alright! It's going to be fine! I promise!"

She sniffs. "How… how do you know?"

I quickly think my way around the question, and try to start up a new sentence.

"Does John know?"

She nods, not looking me in the eye.

"And what did he say?"

A little smile breaks out on her face.

"He proposed." I can't help but smile at the thought of John bending down on one knee in the snow. I want to be happy for Cynthia, although a pang of jealously runs through me.

"That's great, Cyn!" I say, wiping a tear from her face.

"See! Everything will be great!"

She sniffs again and rubs her eyes. "You really think so?"

I nod. "I'm positive."

She throws her arms around me and gives a little laugh.

"You're right. Everything will be great." Then her voice cracks again and I hear sobs.

"But what about Mimi? She hates me! She says I'm not good enough for John!"

I curse Mimi in my head for making everyone so miserable, especially her own nephew's bride-to-be.

I grab Cynthia's shoulders firmly and look her straight in the eye.

"Do you love John?" I ask, and she looks confused.

"Yes, I love John, but what does that,"

I cut her off. "Then to hell with Mimi! You're getting married to your love! Don't let that bitch ruin your life!"

Cynthia smiles weakly.

"Now are all the tears gone?"

She nods. Then we both look down at her stomach, which, I have to admit, has gotten a little bigger from before.

"So are you excited?"

She nods, and rubs her stomach.

"Yeah, I am, but I'm a bit nervous too."

I shake my head. "I don't blame you, I think everyone is. But it's exciting! I can't wait until I have my own, when I'm married and all that."

Her face breaks out in a smile.

"So how long have you two known?"

Cynthia thinks about it a second, biting her nail.

"About… a month. Only you and John know though. I just couldn't keep it in any longer. Actually, we're going to tell Mimi tonight. That's why I thought that I should tell a girl before. And well, you seemed perfect." She says brightly.

"So, you've known for a month you said?" I say, a little bothered that John didn't mention it to me.

She nods, concerned. "Yeah, are you alright?"

This makes me wonder if how I feel is really obvious on my face. I'm brought back to earth, and I force a smile.

"Mmhm, everything's fine."

We don't say anything for a few minutes, and I stare out the window at the people walking by. Then it hits me.

"Hey Cyn, do you have the time?"

She rolls up her sleeve and takes a look at her watch. "It's ten to three."

I stand up and push my chair in. "Oh, I almost forgot! I'm meeting Paul's family today!"

Cynthia raises an eyebrow. "You haven't yet?"

I shake my head, hoping that this conversation is a quick one. She smiles. "I didn't meet John's Auntie until a few months ago, actually. Just be yourself. His parents will love you."

"Yeah, but I'm only going to be meeting his Dad and brother."

She cocks her head to the side. "Where's his Mum?"

"In heaven."

Her face drains of color. "Oh… I'm so sorry… poor Paul."

My eyes fill up with tears as I think about how his childhood must have looked. "Well, stop talking to me and get out there, girl! Where are you meeting him?"

"My house."

"How are you getting there?"

I shrug and look around the room frantically. "I'll walk."

"You should call Paul and explain to him where you are. You have change for the pay phone?"

I reach inside my pockets and grimace to remember that I've left my purse at home. I shake my head. "No."

Cynthia takes out her purse and hands me a few coins. "Here, call Paul and tell him to go on inside. I'm sure he wouldn't mind talking with George for a while."

I throw my arms around Cynthia. "Thank you, you saved my life!"

She smiles. "Don't mention it. You helped me, so I will help you. It's what friends do," she lets go. "And besides, we don't want to lose a boy like that, now do we?"

I tilt my head back.

"Yeah, he's gorgeous, isn't he?"

She nods slowly. "I bet he's a good kisser too."

I beam. "He is. He has beautiful lips."

"He's beautiful all around, isn't he?"

I sigh; just thinking about him makes my head spin.

"You two are really in love, aren't you?" She says, grinning.

"A little."

Cynthia laughs and motions me to go call him up.

I walk over to the phone and slide my coins in, dialing the numbers I've memorized. I listen as the phone tries to reach their house.

"Hello?"

My heart leaps.

"Hello, is this Mr. McCartney?"

"It sure is, may I ask who's calling?" Paul's Dad says cheerily.

"Stella Harrison, Paul's girlfriend. I actually think I'll be meeting you for real today!"

The man laughs.

"Ah, yes. I've heard many stories about you, and it seems as if they're right. You sound to be a very nice girl, perfect for Paulie. Speaking of which, you probably want to talk to him, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," I say, my heart doing a belly-flop. "I would."

"Alright then, I'll get him over here. Looking forward to meeting you, Miss Stella."

"You too, Sir. Thank you."

I take a deep breath as I hear the phone hit the table as he gets Paul.

What seems like ages later, really only a few seconds, I hear Paul's sweet voice.

"Stella?"

"Hi, Paulie."

He laughs.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

My heart practically leaps out of my throat at the nickname.

"Cynthia needed to meet me at the café for some… reasons, and I might be a little late. Do you mind…"

"Which café?"

"On 8th street."

"Alright, I can pick you up in the family car; it'll save you the walking and hurry. Sound good?"

"You don't have to do that, Paulie…"

"But I do. I'll see you in a few. I love you! Hey, that rhymed."

He giggles like a little boy, which makes me giggle as well.

"Ooh! I love you more!"

"I doubt that's possible. I love you with my whole heart."

"I love you to the moon and back."

"I love you across the universe."

"You've got me there. No fair. Hey, that rhymed!"

Paul giggles again, and so do I.

"Alright, I'll see you soon. I love you!"

And then he hangs up the phone quickly so that we can't go back and forth again.

I set the phone down and walk away, a big grin on my face. Cynthia raises an eyebrow and watches as I sit down at the table again.

"So? Shouldn't you be going?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me or something?"

She laughs. "No! I just thought that you were going to try to get home to meet Paul, not hang out with me."

I smile. "Paul's coming to pick me up."

Her face turns red. "Lucky. I'm jealous. John wouldn't do that for me."

"Well John can't drive, can he?"

She shrugs. "I guess not."

"Well that solves that, doesn't it?"

A little while later, the little bells on the door jingle, and a burst of spring air comes in.

I look over and see Paul walking in. He looks around, and when he sees me, a big smile comes across his face.

He walks over and I stand up and give him a kiss.

He picks me up and sits down, putting me down on his lap. I squeeze his hands tight. Paul looks over at Cynthia and grins.

"Congratulations on John! You have a lot of guts to want to live with him. I share a room with him for a few months in Germany and don't want anything to do with him afterward. Good luck."

She blushes red, embarrassed. He notices and gives a little wink. "Hey, I'm kidding. John's a great guy. You'll be a happy couple."

Cynthia giggles. "Like you and Stella?"

He looks at me and bounces his knee up and down.

"Yeah, like me and Stella."

Nobody says anything for a few seconds, and Paul has to break the ice again.

"So when's the wedding? Where is it?"

"We're not doing a wedding really. We're just going to go to the register."

"Oh, well that's alright too, I mean, if you want to hide from girls. When is it?"

"Next week on Monday."

Paul's jaw drops. "Seriously? Can you give yourselves any time? Wow, you guys are really straight forward with this, aren't you? Alright, are we invited?"

"Of course, you're our closest friends! It will be John and I, George, Ringo and Mo, you and Stella, Brian, Aunt Mater, and possibly Mimi."

"Well what about your Mum and Dad?"

"My Dad can't exactly come… and my Mum's in Canada."

Paul's face falls. "Oh. I'm sorry for asking."

Cynthia shrugs. "It's okay. You didn't know."

Paul wraps his arms around me and puts his chin on my shoulder. "Well, we better be going."

Cynthia nods. "Yeah, I should too. See you."

I stand up, and Paul follows my lead. We wave and leave out the door, the little bell jingling behind us.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11: LOVE**_

It turns out that Paul's Dad and Brother are very fond of me, and that they think that I'd be perfect for Paul. I can't help but get excited at the thought of that.

Some more big news is that George Martin wants to produce them, and they are talking about some plans they want to make. Paul's super excited by all of this, being the natural showman he is, and as his girlfriend, I have to encourage all of this. It's not really a problem, because I do encourage everything he does, but a thought does worry me.

I haven't been going to school lately because Paul wants to be around me more. And I'm almost certain that I'm going to end up spending the rest of my life with this boy, so I trust that he knows what he's doing on means of money.

I sure hope that he thinks that I'm the one for him as well. His family sure does.

"Paul… wait up…" I pant, running after him up the hill.

His long legs pay off when he runs.

He turns around and looks at me with his big doe-eyes.

"We can't be late for John and Cyn's wedding though!" He pants, taking quick breaths. He runs down the hill and picks me up, making my red airy dress dance in the air by my ankles.

I put my arms around his neck and he runs up the hill, down the other side, and into town. Only a perfect boyfriend would do that.

He sets me down once we get to the doorstep and I give him a big kiss in return for running me over, promising that I'll give him a little more later.

We walk in and see everybody standing there in the lobby, looking back at us.

"Hey guys, sorry if we're a little late. We lost track of time. I look up at Paul with his windswept hair and realize that he even looks cute when he isn't looking his best. (If that's possible for him to look less than adorable)

John and Cyn are standing hand in hand, looking like they were truly meant to be. John's wearing his Buddy Holly glasses that he wore when I first met him and a tuxedo, which makes him look sophisticated. Not like the John we know and love.

Cynthia's blonde hair is pulled up into a pretty bun and she's wearing a plain little white dress. Nothing fancy, just something to get the job done.

I smile at John, who looks tense and nervous. George pats him on the back in encouragement, but he still looks uneasy.

"You guys are getting married on a great day outside…" Paul says, trying to break the ice once more.

Then, strangely, as if by magic, a loud thunderclap shakes the ground followed by a big bolt of lightning and the sound of a million raindrops on the roof echoes outside. It goes silent inside the building, and then everyone starts laughing.

We walk over to the desk, and watch as the little ceremony happens. They say their vows, sign a few papers, and then kiss.

Paul, George, Ringo, Mo and I all cheer, but the adults remain silent.

Paul leans in to me.

"It kinda makes you long for the real thing, doesn't it?"

I nod slowly, turning to look up at Paul so our lips are a few centimeters away. "Yeah, it does."

After talking a little bit inside, hoping that the rain stops, we decide that we're going to run to the bar across the street for a few drinks.

Brian has to leave; he has some group to manage. George also decides to leave, seeing as he's the only one without a girlfriend. Brilliant.

John picks Cynthia up and grins at us.

"We gotta get over there somehow."

Paul thinks a second, and then picks me up in his arms the same way John's doing to Cynthia. Ringo does the same with Mo.

"We run across on the count of four," Paul says, his eyes sparkling.

"What!" Cyn, Mo and I yell at the same time, trying to wriggle out of our boyfriend's (and husband's) grip.

"One… two… three… FOUR!" He yells, and we're suddenly off into the rain, across the street with cars honking at us and into the bar, dripping wet.

I'm about to yell at them when Paul gives me a long kiss. He releases me, and we just stand there in the middle of the bar giggling.

"It's been a strange day, huh Stella?" Paul asks, taking a gulp of his drink.

"Yeah, it has. It's kind of strange to think that John's married now."

"I know what you mean. I guess I've never really put much thought into John getting married. I've always seen him as one of those crazy guys who go to parties and sleep with other women, you know, the life of the party. I'm not saying he won't sleep with other women in his life… he's John. What do we expect? I know Cynthia sees that coming as well." I take a sip out of my glass and set it down.

"Would you do something like that?"

Paul turns his stool to face me. "Now why on earth would I cheat on a girl like you? You're the kind of girl I would cheat with. There's not a reason on earth that I would do such a thing to you."

I give a little smile and run a finger along the rim of my glass.

"Hey Stella?" Paul asks, looking down into his drink.

"Yeah Paulie," I say.

"Have you ever thought about marriage?" He says, his voice hardly coming out.

I twist my stool to face him. His eyes sparkle. His delicate lips form a smile. His hair is matted down onto his forehead from the rain, and it makes him look so pathetic, I think I could kiss him forever.

"I guess I have. Why?"

He shrugs and looks into my eyes. Neither of us say anything for a moment.

"You have beautiful eyes. Have I told you that?" He asks, in a bouncy way.

He has told me that. Millions of times.

"Thousands." I say, smiling. His lips part so that you can see his crooked teeth when he smiles.

"Well you do."

I giggle.

"Not as beautiful as yours are," I smile. "Have I told you that?"

He looks down into his lap.

"Thousands."

I don't know how other people feel when they're in love. Sure, I've thought I've been in love before. And was I? No. Not even close. It's a joke to think that now. But whenever I was with the other boys, it didn't feel like that. It didn't click. I didn't have any real connections with them. But Paul's different. Different than all the boys I've known. He has his own charm. His own personality. His own endless love to give. And that's what I've been looking for all these years.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 13: Goodnight**_

Paul peeks out of the window in disgust.

"God, I wish these girls would stop just for the night. Honestly, I swear they want us to give them our full attention all the time. It makes you tired, dealing with them."

He shuts the blinds of the hotel window, where the two of us are staying, trying to get one night together.

"Oh you poor thing. Having to stand out there, smiling and waving to girls who love you."

"Hey well," He winces at the sound of girls screaming. He puts his hands in the air as surrender, and then walks over to the TV.

He switches it on and scans the channels, finds the news, and then crawls into bed beside me.

"The mass hysteria is sweeping the nation like none other. Girls faint and scream, and boys wish they were the ones with all of that attention. Yes, folks, we're talking about the new pop phenomenon, The Beatles. The four boys by the name of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr are taking the world by storm. With their sweet voices, long hair, and fun style, all of the girls around the globe want a piece of them. Literally! People are calling this new-found craze many things, but it is best known as BEATLEMANIA."

The screen switches to show their faces, all smiling and laughing at the camera. Then they disappear to show a commercial for Beatle wigs.

Paul gets up and turns the TV off and snuggles up close to me again.

"Don't you just hate those ads?" He asks, putting his arms around me.

I don't know what to think of it. It seems all the world's changing, and I know that my world is about to change even more than I can imagine. I just hope that Paul and I don't change too much.

I wake up the next morning to find the bed empty beside me. I stretch and feel to my left, and am scared to find Paul gone.

I get up, look under the covers, on the floor, in the bathroom, on the balcony, everywhere. He's nowhere to be found.

Then I spot a note on the desk. I walk over, take it into my hands, and read.

Dear Stella,

I'm really sorry for not being able to say goodbye to you this morning. I don't know if you heard them knocking, but Brian was at the door all mad that I slept in. I gotta say, I was pretty shocked to see him so early. Turns out that I was supposed to leave bright and early this morning, but forgot. You know me, always forgetting things. Damn, I hope that I don't screw more things up. I begged Brian to let me say goodbye, and was about to wake you, but you looked so sweet and peaceful all cuddled up in the covers that I didn't want to interrupt you. You also look like an angel when you sleep, and that really bugged me the most I think, that I had to wake you. So, as you can see, being the stupid boy I am, I didn't wake you. But I left you this note. I kissed you before I left, but I don't think you remember that at all. I kissed this letter a million times all over the place (It got Brian mad that I took so long) in hopes that I can make it up to you somehow. Please forgive me… I love you to the moon and back. (Let's hope someone gets there before the Germans… I've got my money on America.) I will see you soon, I think it's only a week we'll be gone this time. That's not so long. And you know what? Maybe Cynthia will finally have her baby and we'll all get to come home to see it. (A likely excuse.) I could really care less about her baby; I only want to see mine. (That's you.) I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love you again,

Paul

P.S. Maybe if you kiss the paper, I'll feel it and then we can have some sort of connection. John told me it worked with him and Cynthia, and look at them now, all married and with a baby on its way. I don't know; just kiss the paper, love.

My eyes fill up with tears as I lift the note up to my lips and kiss it.

I then shove the paper into my pocket and lock the door to the bathroom, letting myself take the time to get ready.

A little while later, I pack up my things, pull my jacket on around me, and check myself out of the hotel.

As I'm handing the clerk the keys to the room, he glances up at me and smiles.

"Are you the girl who was staying with Paul McCartney?" He asks politely.

I nod, wondering whether I should trust him with that information.

He takes the keys into his hand and looks back up at me. It must be pretty obvious what I'm thinking right now, because he gives me a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, us folks in Liverpool don't tell a soul about Beatle girls. You must be Stella Harrison then?"

I nod again, dropping my bag of possessions on the floor.

"George's sister. You're quite in the mix with the fab four then, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," I say, forcing a smile.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, where is the boy?" He goes on, looking around the counter as if Paul will just appear out of thin air.

"Paul?" I ask, also looking behind me. He nods.

"Oh, he's not here… he's gone on tour again."

"Oh? Where to this time?" He asks, hanging the keys up behind him under the room number 9.

"France," I say casually, like it's no big deal that I woke up to find him gone.

"That must be hard on you…" He starts, his voice trailing off. I bend down and pick up my bag.

"No biggie. Happens all the time. Well, I'd better be going… Thanks for the conversation, sir." I give him a little smile and turn around.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. McCartney," he calls as I head out the door. I think I might fall down at his words. He called me Mrs. McCartney.

I wonder if he thinks that I'm married to him. I wonder if he thinks so, if everybody in Liverpool thinks so.

My head starts to spin as I walk down the street to Cynthia and John's house.

I agreed with Cynthia that when John's gone, I'll come stay at their flat and keep her company, also being there if she needs someone to take her to the hospital. I can drive, but I don't have a car, which makes it difficult to get behind the wheel. Strangely, Cynthia and John have a car, even though neither of them can drive. I guess it's just one of those things you need to do when you're becoming rich fast. And I'm glad that I'm doing something nice for Cynthia… I just hope that that baby of hers can wait until Johnny comes home before deciding it's time to go.

I knock on the door and sling my bag over my shoulder, looking down at my jeans. I wait a few minutes, and am about to knock again, when Cynthia opens the door, her stomach looking larger than life.

"Oh! You have to sit down! You didn't need to open the door... I could have walked in! I'm sorry!"

She shakes her head, panting. Her legs are trembling under the weight of her stomach.

I get under her arm and help her hobble over to the couch, where she sits down and puts her hand on her belly.

"Are you alright?" I ask, also panting after almost carrying her over here. She nods. "Yes. Sorry for that interesting welcome. Are you hungry?"

I look at her strangely, and she leans her head back.

"Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying half the time," She pats her belly. "The baby's getting in the way of things."

I nod slowly, trying to understand.

"So what's been going on with you and Paul? Anything?"

I lean back on the cushions, trying to remember something.

"Well, we went to a hotel last night."

She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. "That's always nice."

I look at her stomach and then gasp, stand up, and start pacing back and forth across the floor.

"What? Is everything alright?" She asks, trying to stand up.

"No, no! Stay sitting. Everything's okay."

I feel my eyes well up with tears as I think about it though.

"No, it's not. What's going on?"

I bite my nail as I continue to pace.

"Well, last night… I don't think that Paul had a condom on."

Cynthia's eyes bulge, and I see a trace of fear in her face.

"Are… are you sure? I think you might be just imagining things."

I turn to face her and stop pacing. "You think so?"

She smiles and puts her hand on my arm, making me sit down beside her. "Yes, I know so. You're a stressed girl! You're dating Paul McCartney, for heaven's sake! You don't know what's coming next, so you just worry about the little things like that. I'm going through the same exact thing. Everything's fine."

I think I could kiss her right now; she's made me so happy.

I fold my hands in my lap and look at my nails. "Hey Cyn?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of my nails.

"Mmhm," She replies, looking at her feet that are halfway hidden by her stomach.

"How old are you?" I say, looking up at her.

"Twenty-Two," She says, looking at me curiously.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen." I say, turning myself to face her.

"And Paul's nineteen?" She asks, her gaze moving to her shirt that doesn't match her pants.

"Yes," I say, looking at it too.

"And John's twenty-one?"

She nods. "Why did you want to know how old I was?" She asks, and when I don't answer, she adds, "Oh. Right."

We get quiet after that, and I wish that I didn't bring that up. I was just curious. "So did you get a call from John yet?" I ask, trying to change the subject. She nods and beams.

"Yes, he called me about an hour after he left, checking that I didn't 'explode'." She rolls her eyes and I giggle.

"Pure Lennon right there," I say between laughs.

"You got that right," She says, smiling. "So have you heard from Paulie?"

I shake my head and look down at my feet again.

"I'm sure he'll call soon. He loves you a ton. I really don't think that he can make it any longer without calling. In fact, I think that he will call sometime in the next ten minutes."

Then Cynthia winces and her hand flies to her stomach, where she scrunches up for a minute or two.

"Cynthia! Are you alright?" I say, trying to stay calm.

She nods and holds up a finger meaning 'one second'.

I don't know what to do to help her at the moment, so I just stand there, waiting in case she needs me. Then she takes a deep breath and relaxes again.

"I hate when the baby does that."

I nod, probably more scared than her. "I do too."

You won't believe this now, but sometime around the ten minute mark, the phone rings. I scramble to get to it, holding it up to my ear and clutching the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey babe… did you get my note?" Paul's voice.

"Yes, and you almost made me cry." I reply, giving a little laugh.

"Aw, I didn't want that. Listen, I'm really sorry…"

"It's alright. It's in the past now. You didn't mean it. It wasn't your fault."

"Thanks for understanding, love. I still feel guilty though."

"Don't be."

"So how's Cyn? You with her?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She just had this weird cramping thing. False alarm though."

"Did you keep it cool?"

"Yeah… that's what I did…"

He laughs.

"Well that's good. Now you know to keep calm."

"It's harder than it looks."

"Hey, at least you aren't the one giving birth at any second."

It's my turn to laugh.

"So where are you now, Paulie?"

"We've just landed in France. It's actually not that great being in Paris when your love isn't with you."

"Aw, honey…"

"We're coming back here sometime, just me and you."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it would. Crap, the guys are telling me that we've gotta go. We're only in the airport."

"Alright, when are you coming home?"

"If Cynthia doesn't pop, in four days. If she does, sooner."

"What happened to the longer time?"

"We don't need to be here that long. John and I managed to knock off a few days."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, ma'am." John's voice.

"God, John! Quit it!" Paul yells.

I giggle.

"Alright, well, I'm going to get my ear pulled off if I don't stop talking to you, so I guess until then."

"Until then."

"Hope she pops."

"Not when I'm alone with her!"

"Just stay cool, love."

"But…"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I set the phone back on the receiver and sit next to Cynthia again, folding my legs Indian style.

"Was it Paul?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He sent his all his loving to me."

"Lovely."

"Lovely."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13: Goodnight**_

Paul peeks out of the window in disgust.

"God, I wish these girls would stop just for the night. Honestly, I swear they want us to give them our full attention all the time. It makes you tired, dealing with them."

He shuts the blinds of the hotel window, where the two of us are staying, trying to get one night together.

"Oh you poor thing. Having to stand out there, smiling and waving to girls who love you."

"Hey well," He winces at the sound of girls screaming. He puts his hands in the air as surrender, and then walks over to the TV.

He switches it on and scans the channels, finds the news, and then crawls into bed beside me.

"The mass hysteria is sweeping the nation like none other. Girls faint and scream, and boys wish they were the ones with all of that attention. Yes, folks, we're talking about the new pop phenomenon, The Beatles. The four boys by the name of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr are taking the world by storm. With their sweet voices, long hair, and fun style, all of the girls around the globe want a piece of them. Literally! People are calling this new-found craze many things, but it is best known as BEATLEMANIA."

The screen switches to show their faces, all smiling and laughing at the camera. Then they disappear to show a commercial for Beatle wigs.

Paul gets up and turns the TV off and snuggles up close to me again.

"Don't you just hate those ads?" He asks, putting his arms around me.

I don't know what to think of it. It seems all the world's changing, and I know that my world is about to change even more than I can imagine. I just hope that Paul and I don't change too much.

I wake up the next morning to find the bed empty beside me. I stretch and feel to my left, and am scared to find Paul gone.

I get up, look under the covers, on the floor, in the bathroom, on the balcony, everywhere. He's nowhere to be found.

Then I spot a note on the desk. I walk over, take it into my hands, and read.

Dear Stella,

I'm really sorry for not being able to say goodbye to you this morning. I don't know if you heard them knocking, but Brian was at the door all mad that I slept in. I gotta say, I was pretty shocked to see him so early. Turns out that I was supposed to leave bright and early this morning, but forgot. You know me, always forgetting things. Damn, I hope that I don't screw more things up. I begged Brian to let me say goodbye, and was about to wake you, but you looked so sweet and peaceful all cuddled up in the covers that I didn't want to interrupt you. You also look like an angel when you sleep, and that really bugged me the most I think, that I had to wake you. So, as you can see, being the stupid boy I am, I didn't wake you. But I left you this note. I kissed you before I left, but I don't think you remember that at all. I kissed this letter a million times all over the place (It got Brian mad that I took so long) in hopes that I can make it up to you somehow. Please forgive me… I love you to the moon and back. (Let's hope someone gets there before the Germans… I've got my money on America.) I will see you soon, I think it's only a week we'll be gone this time. That's not so long. And you know what? Maybe Cynthia will finally have her baby and we'll all get to come home to see it. (A likely excuse.) I could really care less about her baby; I only want to see mine. (That's you.) I love you, I love you, I love you.

Love you again,

Paul

P.S. Maybe if you kiss the paper, I'll feel it and then we can have some sort of connection. John told me it worked with him and Cynthia, and look at them now, all married and with a baby on its way. I don't know; just kiss the paper, love.

My eyes fill up with tears as I lift the note up to my lips and kiss it.

I then shove the paper into my pocket and lock the door to the bathroom, letting myself take the time to get ready.

A little while later, I pack up my things, pull my jacket on around me, and check myself out of the hotel.

As I'm handing the clerk the keys to the room, he glances up at me and smiles.

"Are you the girl who was staying with Paul McCartney?" He asks politely.

I nod, wondering whether I should trust him with that information.

He takes the keys into his hand and looks back up at me. It must be pretty obvious what I'm thinking right now, because he gives me a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, us folks in Liverpool don't tell a soul about Beatle girls. You must be Stella Harrison then?"

I nod again, dropping my bag of possessions on the floor.

"George's sister. You're quite in the mix with the fab four then, aren't you?"

"Yes sir," I say, forcing a smile.

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, where is the boy?" He goes on, looking around the counter as if Paul will just appear out of thin air.

"Paul?" I ask, also looking behind me. He nods.

"Oh, he's not here… he's gone on tour again."

"Oh? Where to this time?" He asks, hanging the keys up behind him under the room number 9.

"France," I say casually, like it's no big deal that I woke up to find him gone.

"That must be hard on you…" He starts, his voice trailing off. I bend down and pick up my bag.

"No biggie. Happens all the time. Well, I'd better be going… Thanks for the conversation, sir." I give him a little smile and turn around.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. McCartney," he calls as I head out the door. I think I might fall down at his words. He called me Mrs. McCartney.

I wonder if he thinks that I'm married to him. I wonder if he thinks so, if everybody in Liverpool thinks so.

My head starts to spin as I walk down the street to Cynthia and John's house.

I agreed with Cynthia that when John's gone, I'll come stay at their flat and keep her company, also being there if she needs someone to take her to the hospital. I can drive, but I don't have a car, which makes it difficult to get behind the wheel. Strangely, Cynthia and John have a car, even though neither of them can drive. I guess it's just one of those things you need to do when you're becoming rich fast. And I'm glad that I'm doing something nice for Cynthia… I just hope that that baby of hers can wait until Johnny comes home before deciding it's time to go.

I knock on the door and sling my bag over my shoulder, looking down at my jeans. I wait a few minutes, and am about to knock again, when Cynthia opens the door, her stomach looking larger than life.

"Oh! You have to sit down! You didn't need to open the door... I could have walked in! I'm sorry!"

She shakes her head, panting. Her legs are trembling under the weight of her stomach.

I get under her arm and help her hobble over to the couch, where she sits down and puts her hand on her belly.

"Are you alright?" I ask, also panting after almost carrying her over here. She nods. "Yes. Sorry for that interesting welcome. Are you hungry?"

I look at her strangely, and she leans her head back.

"Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying half the time," She pats her belly. "The baby's getting in the way of things."

I nod slowly, trying to understand.

"So what's been going on with you and Paul? Anything?"

I lean back on the cushions, trying to remember something.

"Well, we went to a hotel last night."

She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear. "That's always nice."

I look at her stomach and then gasp, stand up, and start pacing back and forth across the floor.

"What? Is everything alright?" She asks, trying to stand up.

"No, no! Stay sitting. Everything's okay."

I feel my eyes well up with tears as I think about it though.

"No, it's not. What's going on?"

I bite my nail as I continue to pace.

"Well, last night… I don't think that Paul had a condom on."

Cynthia's eyes bulge, and I see a trace of fear in her face.

"Are… are you sure? I think you might be just imagining things."

I turn to face her and stop pacing. "You think so?"

She smiles and puts her hand on my arm, making me sit down beside her. "Yes, I know so. You're a stressed girl! You're dating Paul McCartney, for heaven's sake! You don't know what's coming next, so you just worry about the little things like that. I'm going through the same exact thing. Everything's fine."

I think I could kiss her right now; she's made me so happy.

I fold my hands in my lap and look at my nails. "Hey Cyn?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of my nails.

"Mmhm," She replies, looking at her feet that are halfway hidden by her stomach.

"How old are you?" I say, looking up at her.

"Twenty-Two," She says, looking at me curiously.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen." I say, turning myself to face her.

"And Paul's nineteen?" She asks, her gaze moving to her shirt that doesn't match her pants.

"Yes," I say, looking at it too.

"And John's twenty-one?"

She nods. "Why did you want to know how old I was?" She asks, and when I don't answer, she adds, "Oh. Right."

We get quiet after that, and I wish that I didn't bring that up. I was just curious. "So did you get a call from John yet?" I ask, trying to change the subject. She nods and beams.

"Yes, he called me about an hour after he left, checking that I didn't 'explode'." She rolls her eyes and I giggle.

"Pure Lennon right there," I say between laughs.

"You got that right," She says, smiling. "So have you heard from Paulie?"

I shake my head and look down at my feet again.

"I'm sure he'll call soon. He loves you a ton. I really don't think that he can make it any longer without calling. In fact, I think that he will call sometime in the next ten minutes."

Then Cynthia winces and her hand flies to her stomach, where she scrunches up for a minute or two.

"Cynthia! Are you alright?" I say, trying to stay calm.

She nods and holds up a finger meaning 'one second'.

I don't know what to do to help her at the moment, so I just stand there, waiting in case she needs me. Then she takes a deep breath and relaxes again.

"I hate when the baby does that."

I nod, probably more scared than her. "I do too."

You won't believe this now, but sometime around the ten minute mark, the phone rings. I scramble to get to it, holding it up to my ear and clutching the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey babe… did you get my note?" Paul's voice.

"Yes, and you almost made me cry." I reply, giving a little laugh.

"Aw, I didn't want that. Listen, I'm really sorry…"

"It's alright. It's in the past now. You didn't mean it. It wasn't your fault."

"Thanks for understanding, love. I still feel guilty though."

"Don't be."

"So how's Cyn? You with her?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She just had this weird cramping thing. False alarm though."

"Did you keep it cool?"

"Yeah… that's what I did…"

He laughs.

"Well that's good. Now you know to keep calm."

"It's harder than it looks."

"Hey, at least you aren't the one giving birth at any second."

It's my turn to laugh.

"So where are you now, Paulie?"

"We've just landed in France. It's actually not that great being in Paris when your love isn't with you."

"Aw, honey…"

"We're coming back here sometime, just me and you."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, it would. Crap, the guys are telling me that we've gotta go. We're only in the airport."

"Alright, when are you coming home?"

"If Cynthia doesn't pop, in four days. If she does, sooner."

"What happened to the longer time?"

"We don't need to be here that long. John and I managed to knock off a few days."

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, ma'am." John's voice.

"God, John! Quit it!" Paul yells.

I giggle.

"Alright, well, I'm going to get my ear pulled off if I don't stop talking to you, so I guess until then."

"Until then."

"Hope she pops."

"Not when I'm alone with her!"

"Just stay cool, love."

"But…"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I set the phone back on the receiver and sit next to Cynthia again, folding my legs Indian style.

"Was it Paul?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He sent his all his loving to me."

"Lovely."

"Lovely."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14: Julian**_

I'm awaken two days later at 2:45 in the morning by Cynthia yelling to me from her bedroom.

I get up, rub my eyes, look at the clock, and then walk into her room like I have been for the last few nights.

"What's up, Cynthia?"

"It's time, Stella. Get me to the hospital, please."

My eyes widen, and I try to remember Paul's words about staying calm.

"Okay. Come on, let's go."

I get under her arm, and I help her hobble over to the door, put on flats, and into the car, her breathing heavily the whole way.

I hop into the driver's seat and head down the road as casually as I can.

"What's the day today, Cynthia?" I ask, stopping at a red light.

"April 8th, 1963."

"Do you think it's going to be a girl or boy?" I ask, taking off again.

She moans, takes a deep breath and answers, "I think it's a boy."

"Any names?" I ask, two blocks away from the hospital. I'm surprised at how calm I'm being.

"If it's a boy like we think, his name will be John Charles Julian Lennon."

"Wow, way to get technical and think ahead."

"We've had time."

I pull into the emergency zone and help her inside the doors. A nurse sees and takes her by the arm and leads her into a wheelchair.

"I'll be right back, Cyn. I'm going to park the car, then call the boys and let them know so that they can come."

She nods uncertainly, and is wheeled away, leaving me to park the car.

Once I get back into the lobby, it's nearly a half an hour later. I walk up to the desk and ask the woman if I can use the phone, but she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, but this is for workers only. Who do you need to call?"

"Her husband, John Lennon, my boyfriend, Paul McCartney, and my brother, George Harrison."

She raises an eyebrow.

"I'm Stella Harrison. That's Cynthia Lennon. Let me use the phone."

She backs up and lets me dial. "I thought that your face looked familiar."

I roll my eyes and wait as it rings.

"Hello?" A groggy John Lennon moans into the phone. I can almost see his bed-head standing up in all directions.

"Hey John, it's Stella. I'm calling you from the hospital. Cynthia's gone into labor."

He makes a strange noise, swears multiple times, yells at Paul to wake up, and I can hear Paul asking questions sleepily in the background.

"I'm coming."

"John, how can you…"

"I said, I'm coming."

"But you still have to perform!"

"WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND IN 'I'M COMING'?" He then hangs the phone up angrily and leaves me standing there, holding the receiver oddly.

"So what room is she in?"

"Are you family?"

"…No?"

"I'm sorry, but you can't go up there."

"Are you kidding me!" I yell, losing control.

The poor secretary has no idea what she's gotten herself into.

When John and Paul walk into the door of the hospital, I don't know what they're thinking when they see me.

I look over in their direction and instantly feel sorry for poor John, who's sweating buckets.

"Did I… miss it?" He says, his voice cracking, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. "No John, it's okay! The nurse will definitely let you into her room. Since you're FAMILY," I hold up a fist to her face, and she winces, turning her head to the side.

I have her pinned down on the floor next to the desk, which makes Paul laugh, but he tries to muffle it.

He walks over to me and pries me off, apologizes to the woman, and takes me over to the waiting room.

The woman leads John down the hallway, and he looks like a frail old man, how worried he is.

We sit down on a couch in the little room. I lean my head up against Paul's shoulder, and he runs his fingers through my hair, kissing my head every once and a while.

"Do you think that she'll be okay?" I ask, snuggling up closer to him.

"I'd think so. John's so worried. I've never seen him like this before," He says, giving me a squeeze.

"He doesn't look sturdy at all. Like he lost his confidence," I say, yawning.

He runs his hand up and down my arm, and I notice I'm still wearing my pajamas.

"I love you, Paulie." I say, closing my eyes.

"I love you too, Stella." He says, also closing his eyes, his head drooping onto mine.

Soon we're fast asleep to the quiet music in the background.

"Stella, wake up," Someone says, giving me a little shake.

I open my eyes and look around to find it's now bright outside, probably midday.

"What time is it?" I ask, stretching.

"It's 9:00 in the morning."

My eyes meet Paul's big brown ones, John behind him, beaming.

I stand up and stare blankly at the two boys. Then I run over to John and throw my arms around him, burying my face into his chest.

He hugs me back, and I like this new loving side of John.

Paul takes a few steps closer to us, a little uneasy.

I let go and look up at John's face, him looking down at me with a smile.

"You wanna go meet him?" I turn around and hug Paul harder than John.

"Yes!" I say, not wanting to let go.

Paul puts his arm around me, and we walk down the hallway after John.

We go around curves and up elevators to get to a little room that John opens the door to carefully.

We peek inside and tiptoe into the room, peeking around the curtain at Cynthia, holding a little baby, fast asleep. She looks terribly tired, her eyes sagging, but she has a huge smile on her face.

"Meet Julian Lennon," She whispers happily.

John walks around the bed and gives the baby a little kiss on the head. I want to bawl, but instead I snuggle up to Paul.

John takes the baby carefully and holds him out to me, and I take him with shaky hands.

I rock him back and forth, and Paul squeezes me tighter.

"He looks just like John," Paul whispers, his voice cracking.

I turn my head to see tears running down his face, and I give him a long kiss.

"It makes you long for the real thing, doesn't it, babe?" I whisper, handing the baby to Paul.

He bounces him up and down lightly, almost not at all.

Then Julian opens up his eyes and looks into Paul's. I hold Paul's arm.

"Those are the prettiest eyes you'll ever see in your life, Julian," I whisper, giving the baby a little wink.

Paul shakes his head. "This is the prettiest girl you'll ever see in your life, Jules."

He hands the baby back to Cynthia and meets her eye.

"Unless you're Daddy."

I think you can tell what John looked like after Paul called him Daddy.

Paul leans in close to me.

"When I'm older, I'm going to have a lot of kids."

I laugh. "We'll see about that."


	15. Chapter 16

_**Chapter 16: Oh shit.**_

"Honey, swallow this. It'll help you get rid of some pain," A nurse whispers, poking my lip delicately with a pill.

I open my eyes a little bit to find three nurses around the bed, tending to me.

"What… what happened? Where's Paul?" I ask, looking around the room.

The nurse gives me a smile.

"Your appendix burst, sweetie. You're alright now that you're in the hospital, but it could've been fatal. You're lucky that you were with someone when it happened," a plump nurse informs me, checking an I.V. in my arm.

"And Mr. McCartney is in the waiting room, along with Mr. Lennon, Mr. Starkey, and the Harrison clan," She gives a small laugh. "It's quite a sight seeing all of those boys in there. The girls are drooling outside the building."

I manage to fake a smile, even though it bothers me that the girls don't care about me. Only about the Beatles. But I've expected that.

The nurses make small talk with me while they poke me with needles and give me pills and medicine.

Then the plump nurse sits on the edge of the bed and gets quiet.

I look up at her strangely, and then at the other nurses, whose faces have grown solemn. I give a nervous laugh.

"What's going on?" I ask, suddenly worried.

The nurse reaches out and holds my hand.

"Everything alright?" I ask, trying not to come to conclusions.

"Honey, we took a few tests, you see, to make sure that everything was running correctly in your body, and that you had no diseases. And it is. It's working perfectly, the way it should. But," she grips my hand tighter.

"Are you ready?" I stare at her blankly.

"We did find something."

Long pause.

"You aren't married, are you?"

I shake my head. "No Ma'am."

She looks down at my hand. "I was afraid so. Listen honey, we found that you're pregnant."

I don't believe my ears. "I… can't be." I say, my voice only coming out in a whisper.

She bites her lip. "I wish I was lying. Do you have any idea who the father might be?"

I feel my face go white.

"Paul McCartney."

Her face goes as white as mine. "That can't be good for publicity," She whispers, apparently trying to make a joke. It's not funny to me at all.

"Does… he know?" I ask, meeting her eye. She shakes her head.

"I'll go get him. You two can talk it out."

She moves her hand away, but I grab her arm.

"Can you tell him?" I ask, a pleading sound in my voice.

"I would, but I think it's best if he hears it from someone he understands better."

She turns around but I stop her again.

"Can they all come in first?" I ask, praying she'll agree.

She smiles sympathetically. "I don't see what's wrong with that. I'll go get them all."

She walks out of the room, a bounce in her step. Fake enthusiasm. I'd rather her shuffle out sadly than fake it.

Next thing I know, the room is full of smiling faces.

Paul's holding my hand and beaming, and John, George and Ringo are poking at tubes connected to me.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrison are on my other side, holding my hand.

"John, you better not break that. I don't want my blood to spray all over you."

He pulls his hands away. "As you wish."

George and Ringo flop down in stiff green chairs in the corner of the room.

John moves over to where Paul sits, cracking jokes that light up the room.

George and Ringo go on about recording 'I Want To Hold Your Hand' and that it takes far too long. Paul doesn't say a word, he just laughs and smiles.

They stay for about half an hour, then they start to file out.

Mr. and Mrs. Harrison give me a kiss, Ringo and George kiss me on the cheek, and John, making sure Paul's watching, gives me a long kiss on the lips.

He releases and winks, then walks out of the room.

Paul gives me an even longer kiss, backs away, sets a bouquet of roses on the table, and starts to walk out, when I stop him.

"Hey Paul, I have to tell you something," I whisper. He turns around.

"Alright, what's up, Stella?" He sits on the edge of my bed innocently.

You would never guess that he was the father.

"I don't know how to say it," I take a deep breath. "Would you rather me just say it flat out, or make it all flowery first?"

"Is there a way to make it flowery?" Paul says, giving me a nervous laugh.

I don't say anything.

"Just come out and say it, I guess. Is it really that bad though? I mean, you don't have a disease… the nurse said! And,"

"I'm pregnant," I say quickly, wincing at the very words.

He freezes, his mouth still open.

I bite my lip, fighting back tears. Since when was I so sensitive?

Paul closes his lips together, and just stares at me blankly.

"W-what?" He asks quietly.

"Paul… what are we going to do?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"How do you know?" He asks.

"The nurse told me the doctor found my body reacting strangely, and they took an ultra-sound. But really Paul, what are we going to do?"

He stands up, his face pale.

"I… don't know. Listen Stella, I need some time to myself. I'll see you."

Then he walks out of the room without saying anything.

I burst into tears as soon as I can't hear his footsteps anymore. How could we have let this happen? But it'll all be okay. Paul just needs some time to come up with a plan. He'll be back for me in no time


	16. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17: I got them mean hospital blues,**_

It's been a month since I've talked to Paul in the hospital. Actually, since I've talked to him at all. He didn't come to visit me again that day, or the next. He didn't show up at my door to welcome me back. He didn't give me kisses and tell me everything will be okay. He didn't write me a letter explaining what's going on. He didn't call me to assure me he still loves me. He hasn't come to the Harrison's house to work on chords for their next single. He didn't even bother to tell me their song went straight up to number one in Britain and the United States. The United States!

I think you can tell how George reacted the night they found out.

George jumps over me and sits down on the couch, watching the television intently. Watching the Beatles.

I can't take my eyes off Paul's face though. I just want to know what's going on with him. I turn to George.

"Hey George, what's up with Paul?"

He rolls his eyes.

"You've asked me that a million times. I don't know. Why are you so obsessed?"

I shrug. "You don't have a clue."

He faces me. "What do you mean, I don't have a clue? You think that Paul didn't tell us?"

My face goes white. "He did?"

He looks back at the T.V.

"Yeah, he did. I didn't tell Mum and Dad though. I know you wouldn't approve. Neither would they."

I look down at my feet. "Do you know why he's ignoring me though?"

"No, I don't. He's probably thinking some more. You know him, he's a big thinker."

"Yeah, I guess so." George looks at the carpet.

"I guess so too."

The phone rings later that day, and Mrs. Harrison picks it up.

"Hello?" I can hear her tiny voice faintly.

"Mmhm! She's right over here. I'll go get her. One minute, honey."

She sets the phone down on the table with a thud.

Her face appears in the doorway of the sunroom where George and I sit, in the middle of a guitar lesson. (He's teaching me how)

"Paul's on the phone, sweetie. He wants to talk to you."

I look over at George, and he winks.

I walk to the phone as casually as I can, and pick it up gently.

"Hello?"

"Hey Stella."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"The Queen." Paul says, mocking a girly tone.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, Paul. What's going on?"

"I'm really sorry, Stella. I've been really busy, and majorly lost in thought about this whole thing. I think it might be best if we talk face to face."

"Oh, alright." I say, suddenly worried.

"And I almost forgot, the investigators found out where your parents are!"

"They did? That's great!"

"Yeah, it is! So I'll take you there, and we'll talk on the way. Sound good?"

"Mmhm."

"Okay, I'll be there any second. Bye."

"Bye."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

I set down the phone, praying that he's not going to talk about anything bad.

He knocks on the door, and I walk outside, calling to Mrs. Harrison that I'm leaving and will be back soon. She smiles to me and gives me a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Not like her.

I turn back to Paul, and he has a weird expression on his face that he quickly turns to a smile when he sees me look.

"Shall we get going, malady?"

I giggle and slip on my shoes, stepping off the porch.

Mrs. Harrison waves and beams at me as we leave.

I take Paul's hand, and we walk down the driveway and to Paul's car sitting on the curb. He opens the door for me on the passenger's side, and helps me in.

He slides into the driver's seat and starts the engine.

The car moves down the road smoothly, drawing a lot of attention to the expensive item in the working-class town.

I wave at a group of little girls pointing to Paul excitedly.

"You must get sick of that, don't you?" I ask, watching the girls get smaller and smaller. He shrugs.

"You get used to it. It's not so bad after awhile."

I look outside my window again. "So where are we going exactly?"

He looks at me, a crazy look in his eye.

"Dublin."

I put my hand over my mouth.

"Paul, we can't go all the way to Dublin! That's a whole different country!" I say, looking him in the eye. He turns back to the road.

"Don't worry, we've got it covered. I've got a passport, and so do you," he puts a little booklet on my thigh. I pick it up and flip through it, looking up at him.

"Are you insane? You just pick me up one day and decide that we're going to go to Dublin?"

He glances at me.

"Pretty much!"

My jaw drops. "Paul, I can't afford this!"

"Ah, but I can!"

I grab his arm. "We have to turn around, I'm not prepared for this kind of thing!"

All he does it laugh. "Don't worry, Stella. I've got it all under control. We're going to drive to the airport, get on a plane, and then set off for Dublin. I told Mrs. Harrison that I was taking you, so they know. They packed you a suitcase with everything you'll need," he gives me a reassuring smile. "I haven't seen you so worked up in a while."

I take a deep breath and put my hands in my lap.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just not every day you get to go to Ireland," I finger the passport. "So my parents live in Dublin?"

Paul breaks at a stop sign, and then continues. "Yeah, pretty much!"

I think about this a second.

"And they couldn't just come over to Liverpool to visit?"

Paul gets quiet.

"No, they don't really travel, and they were afraid when all these people in suits were saying that the boy with the strange accent on the telly was trying to find you for his girlfriend, their daughter."

I can't help but smile at this.

"They've really turned into those kind of people, haven't they?"

He pats the edges of the steering wheel. "Yeah, they have…"

I haven't flown before. Actually, come to think of it, I've never left Liverpool. My first step-mom would never go anywhere, for some odd reason. Maybe she's like my parents, and doesn't like to travel anymore. Mrs. Harrison is a bit of a free-spirit, and I bet she'd love to go to another place, but she doesn't have the money. Six people in a family can get to be pretty expensive. Working-class is not helpful to people.

I hold on to Paul's arm with one hand, and the other drags my suitcase behind me, clicking with each tile it passes. Paul looks to be a natural with this sort of thing, maneuvering around people, stopping for the occasional signature, and then proceeding.

I squeeze his arm and he looks down at me.

"How are you doing down there?"

I dodge an old couple coming at us fast.

"A little nervous," I say, walking to a little area with rows of black seats facing big windows.

"You've never flown before, have you?" He asks, taking a seat in front of the window. I sit down beside him and lower the bar on my suitcase.

"No, I haven't. Is it scary?" He leans back in the chair casually.

"Terrifying. My plane almost crashed a couple of times, and it rocks in the air all the way."

I punch him in the arm playfully.

"Stop messing with me, Paul... I'm serious!"

He laughs.

"It's fine. You don't even know you're flying. It feels like you're sitting in the parlor."

"Really?" I ask, putting my head on his shoulder.

"Really," he replies, putting his arm around me.

A lady comes on the loudspeaker, and we stand up.

"This is our flight; it's time to get onboard," Paul says. I pull my belongings behind me, walking behind Paul.

He hands the woman his ticket, and she glances back and forth a few times, making sure it's really Paul McCartney, the Beatle.

He takes a few steps forward and moves to the side, waiting for me.

"Give her your ticket, Stella."

I hand it to her and she checks it, rips off a piece, then hands it back, motioning for me to go.

I yank the handle of our bag, and we walk down a few flights of steps and outside.

My jaw falls open at the size of the plane before us.

I tap Paul on the shoulder. "Is that what we're riding in?" I whisper.

He nods. "Yeah, isn't she a beauty? We've got first class, so we should be clear of fans. I think."

He continues walking, and we give our luggage to a man waiting for us at the foot of the stairs. He says something about keeping it near us in case we need it, and that it won't be going with the other passenger's things.

It doesn't faze Paul, but it interests me. I'm about to say something when Paul takes my hand and leads me up the steps and into the plane.

It's warm inside, and loud in the back half of the plane.

I turn to walk towards the people, but Paul laughs and takes me into the front, where it looks much fancier than the back.

We sit down and lean back, the faint voices of the people in the back chattering.

"Have you ever ridden in there before?" I ask, motioning to the people. He turns around and shakes his head.

"No, my first time was only with the guys."

The plane jolts to a start, and I look out the little window at the ground.

We turn a corner, then another, then another, and speed up.

I feel Paul's hand and squeeze it tightly. Faster and faster we go, when suddenly we don't feel the wheels turning anymore, and my stomach gets a light feeling.

My ears pop, making it hard to hear, and Paul keeps swallowing.

"It gets rid of the feeling," He says.

I try it, and sure enough, it's gone. Only to come back again in another five seconds.

My head feels light, and I look out the window only to see blue sky and clouds. I feel Paul's warm cheek rub against mine as he looks out the window as well.

"Isn't it cool?" He says, and then he points to the ground.

I peer down and laugh to see all of the little buildings and dots for cars. Paul kisses my neck gently, and it makes my whole body warm up. I forget about the baby completely. Who really cares anyways? Paul has a plan, and he's picking the right time to tell me. Besides, nobody knows besides the boys and me. And they won't tell. Neither will I.

The plane touches down on the runway in Dublin around an hour later, and it makes me jump. Paul sees and takes my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. I grin back.

"I didn't know that it was going to bump like that…" I say, feeling my face warm up in embarrassment. He laughs.

"I know what you mean, I bet a ton of people jumped at that back there," he motions to the door behind us. I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

"When are we getting off, Paulie?" I ask, yawning.

He runs his fingers through my hair gently. "In a few… this is kind of nice though, being together like this."

I smile and snuggle up close to him. "Yeah, it is."

The door opens from behind us, and we look up at the blonde stewardess standing before us.

"Excuse me, but we're ready for passengers to leave the car now, if you two are ready."

Her teeth sparkle between her lips as she smiles, and I can tell that Paul notices this.

"Yes, that sounds great. We'll get our things now. Thank you," I say, faking a smile. She looks at Paul again and slips him a piece of paper.

Paul gives a little wave to her before she disappears into the cockpit.

Once she's gone, I smack him on the arm.

"Oww…" he rubs his arm where I hit him. "What was that for?"

I smile sweetly at him. "What did she give you?"

He unfolds the paper and hands it to me innocently. I look at it. Written delicately is a phone number, the words 'call me', then 'you're really cute… you deserve better than her'.

Paul looks at it too, and he laughs, taking the paper back. He rips it up until it's not possible to rip it again, and then closes his fist around the little bits.

He stands up and turns around to me. "One minute, I've got some business to do…" he walks through the door into the back, and I can hear screams through the door at the sight of Paul in the plane.

After a few seconds, he appears in the doorway again, the papers gone from his hands. He holds out his hand to me and helps me stand up in the aisle, and leads me outside.

"Where did you go?" I ask, walking down the steps alongside Paul.

"To the back," he says, "I gave the papers back politely."

His eyes sparkle. I throw my arms around him, and he hugs me back.

"What would I do without you?" I say, walking up the steps into the airport.

"Oh, I bet you'd get along fine. I don't see what makes me so special to everybody. I'm just a normal guy who likes to make music."

"I love how you say things like that. You're so humble. You know that you're more talented than the average person," I take a step. "And more polite, cute, and sweet," he puts an arm around me. "And you're my Liverpudlian boy who likes to make music, and is a born performer."

"And you're my Liverpudlian girl who loves me almost as much as I love you."

"I doubt that…"

"You think you love me even less than almost?"

"No! I know I love you more."

"I don't think that's possible, love."


	17. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18: Dublin**_

**I realize that this is skipping a few chapters but I couldn't find the other ones on her account and she doesn't use it anymore so I would ask you to imagine what you think those missing chapters would be like!**

The air inside the airport feels nice and cool against my skin, instantly sending a chill through my body.

"It doesn't feel like Dublin," I say, pulling my suitcase behind me.

"We crossed the border and stood in line for ages to use our passports! What do you mean it doesn't feel like we're in Dublin?" He says, laughing. I shrug.

"I don't know… I've never been to another country before."

His hand finds mine and they intertwine.

"Even if the country is right next to ours?"

"Yes Paul, it doesn't matter if the country is right next door," I smile, rolling my eyes sarcastically. "So where are we going, exactly?" I ask, looking at all of the signs hanging from the ceiling. He points straight to double doors leading into a car garage.

"Right there, Malady."

I beam. "I've never really done this before… have I mentioned that yet?" I say, smiling to him. He looks down and smiles.

"Several times, but that's okay. I still love you the same."

We keep walking in silence.

"Why aren't there any girls trying to get to you, Paul?" I ask, turning my head to him.

"Because Ireland isn't too impressed with us yet. Brian's been going on and on about it for weeks. But who really gives a crap about what they think? It's just a tiny island, tinier than Britain," he says, lowering his voice so that any angry Irish person can't hear.

"I'm sure that we'll get a few girls who ask for autographs, though. We're not completely unknown in this country."

"Are we going to have a driver for us, or are we driving?" I ask, cocking my head to the side like a little girl, which makes Paul smile.

"I'm driving, if you don't mind, Miss. I just want to be looked at as a normal person as we're here. You know where I'm coming from, right Stella?" He says, a smile spreading across his face at the thought of driving. I smile too. It's impossible not to smile when Paul does, just like it's impossible to laugh when John laughs.

"You're really cute when you smile," I say, which makes his face turn pink.

"Thank you, you're cute when you giggle after complimenting me."

I can't help but giggle, which makes him smile his toothy grin.

The humid air swirls around in the car garage outside, and we walk through rows of cars before we find one that we like.

We find one that just came out, and pass it quickly, for an old, rusty one. The car dealer is astonished that someone picked a trashy one.

Paul gets the keys and we get inside, amused by the sound of the engine.

We drive up and pay the man before driving off down the road.

"We'll check into our hotel first, and then go searching, alright?" Paul says, turning a sharp corner.

We drive down busy city streets, past suburban houses, and finally into the countryside.

I roll down the window and stick my hand out, letting the fresh air push it back. Paul laughs at the fact of no people around, and lets out a scream. I immediately put my hands up to my mouth and laugh so hard that I think I'll split my sides. Paul starts laughing too, surprised at himself.

"You never know what I'll do, do you?" He says between laughs. I shake my head, trying to control myself. Paul looks around us and smiles.

"You know what," he says, stopping the car on the side of the baron road.

"What?" I ask, looking around the car as well.

"There's nobody here…" He says, getting a crazy look in his eye. "We've got nothing to lose now…"

I just look at him, unable to hide the smile that's now on my face.

All at once, we climb into the trunk together.

We arrive at a beautiful hotel on the edge of the countryside and park the car.

Taking out the luggage, we walk through the doors into the elegant lobby, where I feel out of place, but Paul appears to fit right in.

He walks up to the desk, me on his heels, and begins talking to the man in the suit.

"What's your name, son?" The man asks, looking him in the eye.

"Paul McCartney, but I think it's under James McCartney."

The man looks unconvinced.

"You say your name's Paul McCartney? As in the petty boy from England?"

Paul and I stifle our laughter.

"Yes, sir," he says, doing everything he can not to laugh.

"May I see a license, son?"

Paul reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing the man his license. The man's face turns white, then red as he realizes that he is Paul McCartney.

"Thank you…" The man says, giving the license back.

"You'll be in room 234," he hands two sets of keys to him, and Paul hands me one.

We turn to leave, but the man stops us.

"Wait, Mr. McCartney."

Paul turns around slowly.

"Yes? This is the petty boy from England speaking."

I giggle, and Paul smiles in approval.

"About that… I'm sorry about calling you that. I have to learn not to make judgments about things – people I don't know about. Forgive me, and you have a nice stay."

Paul pretends to think about what the man said, then nods.

"Yeah, I guess it's alright. But don't expect the same reaction from John Lennon. He wouldn't appreciate that."

"Of course. Now is this woman your wife?"

Paul takes my hand.

"Her? Oh no, she's my girlfriend. But I love her like you'd love a wife. Well, we'll see you later." Paul says, and we walk down the hallway and up the stairs.

When we get to our room, we put our bags on the ground and walk out on the patio, staring out into the great wide open.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" I say, leaning my head on my hand. Paul nods and bites his lip.

"You don't really see this kind of a thing in Liverpool."

We don't say anything, just look outside.

"Do you remember that song that I used to sing at The Cavern?" Paul asks, not taking his eyes off the view.

"You sung a lot of songs at The Cavern, Paul," I say, looking up at the sky.

"Yeah, but that one – one of the first songs I wrote," He puts a hand over his eyes.

"Oh… what was it?"

It hits me. "Like Dreamers Do?"

He pops his head up again. "Yes!"

I look at him. "What about it?"

He looks back at me. "I wrote it before we were an item, remember?"

I nod slowly. "I remember, but why do you bring it up?" He gets a smile on his face that makes his dimples come out.

"I wrote it about you."

I smile and give him a quick kiss. "Aww, that's cute Paul."

His face turns a light pink.

"I thought that I'd tell you now that it's been a while since we met."

I put my head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded if you told me a while ago," I say, looking into his brown eyes.

"But I'm glad you told me."

He smiles at me. "There's more coming."

I don't say anything, I can't think of anything worthwhile to say.

"You wanna go now, Stella?" He asks, moving away from me.

"Oh… sure," I say, realizing that I nearly forgot why we were in Dublin to begin with. Paul raises an eyebrow.

"You don't sound as excited as you were before…" He says, looking disappointed. I shake my head.

"No! I'm really excited! I'm sorry, I just forgot we were going, and I was lost in thought, so I wasn't really aware of what you were saying."

He smiles. "It's alright. I know where you're coming from. I've done that to you thousands of times," he says, laughing.

I roll my eyes sarcastically. "Lovely," I say. "I needed to know that."

He laughs and walks back inside. I follow him. We slip on our shoes and walk out the door, downstairs, and outside.

Paul waves to the man at the desk, and he waves back.

"Making friends, are we?" I ask, squinting in the sun.

"Well, if you're Paul McCartney, you have to," he says, unlocking the car.

We sit down on the peeling leather seats and instantly feel hot.

"It feels like a fuckin' oven in here!" Paul says, wiping his forehead.

I roll down the window. "Better?" I ask, and he shakes his head, cranking his window down as well.

"You know… never mind," he says, backing up the car and starting down the road again.

The country air feels good swirling around the car freely, and Paul seems to be enjoying the space away from fans and buildings.

I lean my head out the window and let my long hair blow behind me, squinting my eyes against the wind. Paul laughs from inside the car, and sticks his head out as well.

"What do you think people would think if they saw Paul McCartney and his girlfriend sticking their heads out the window of a car?"

Paul shakes his head. "Who cares?"

We drive into the darkness, watching the sun set behind us. The regular countryside has turned to baron wasteland, and there's about one house for every mile. In fact, there's so few, Paul and I have made a game out of it, counting every house we see on our side of the window.

We get to a little town and Paul parks the car near a cemetery, turning to me with a sad look in his eye.

"Why…" I start, and he takes my hand, biting his lip.

"Come on," he whispers, his voice low. I open my door slowly and wrap my arms around myself, confused and afraid.

Paul closes his door quietly and puts an arm around me, leading me through the steel gate.

We walk through the tombstones lined side by side, and I shiver by the thought of them. Paul turns down a different path, which leads us into one of the rows. He stops in front of one and lowers his head. I take a step toward it and fall to my knees, tears spilling down my cheeks.

The words carved into the stone blurs up, making it hard to read.

HARRY AND MELISSA BLUME – MAY THEIR SPIRITS LIVE ON INSIDE OF US FOREVER.

Paul puts his hand on my shoulder.

"No…" I say, my voice hardly coming out.

"I'm so sorry, love…"

I run my hand along the edge of it, making sure that it's there.

The date is worn off, so it's impossible to tell when they died.

I stand up next to Paul, and he wraps his arms around me.

"Who knows how long I've loved you, you know I love you still, will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name, but it never really mattered, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together, love you when we're apart. So when at last I find you, your song will fill the air, sing it loud so I can hear you, make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me, oh you know I will. I will." He sings softly, his words dancing gracefully around me.

I automatically know that he wrote the song himself, nobody can write something like that.

He sways back and forth slowly, filling me with comfort.

"The baby," he says, and I feel like crying at the words. Why would he mention this now? He knows that I feel uneasy.

"The baby," I repeat, looking up at him.

He takes my hands off of him and holds them for a moment.

"I have to do something a minute. Excuse me," he lets go of my hands and kneels in front of the grave.

He takes out a tiny velvet box and holds it out to the grave. I put my hands over my mouth.

"Mr. and Mrs. Blume, my name is James Paul McCartney, and I don't know if you remember me, but we've met here before. I am extremely in love with your daughter, and think that she is the most wonderful woman you'll ever meet. And I apologize for making her pregnant with your granddaughter. I want to set things right, which makes me have to act on this quicker than I had originally planned. Your daughter is smart, beautiful, funny, sweet, nice, and more that I can never name all in one lifetime. The one thing that makes me absolutely amazed by her is the fact that she stuck with me and believed in me when nobody else did. She believed that I had talent when Liverpool and Germany turned us down. Look at us now, people have discovered us, and realized that we do have talent. I think that Stella has way more talent than I do, however, and that I could learn a lot from her. I would love to grow old with her by my side, and I want to never let her go away from my side. I love your daughter more than you can imagine. And that's why I'm asking for your blessing, and that I may make her my wife. I know that you aren't exactly able to tell me yes or no, or to shake my hand, but it would mean the world to me if you would give me a sign that shows that you understand and approve of me," he places his hand against the cool stone and looks up at the sky. I look up too.

Amazingly, a single star soars across the sky, leaving a trail of sparkles behind it.

Paul's beaming.

I'm stunned by what's going on.

He closes his hand around the box, and nods at the stone. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

He stands up, turns to me and takes my hand, his eyes sparkling.

He gets down on one knee and takes out the box once more, flipping it open to show a beautiful diamond ring, by far the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

My eyes glisten with tears of joy. He moves his thumb back and forth on my skin, which makes my heart beat fifty times the amount of a normal heart.

"Stella Blume," he says, and my heart flutters. I can tell his is too.

"We have known each other for a long, long time. You have been with me through thick and thin. We have had some pretty good times, and some sad times too. We have also done some naughty things, and I'm not sure what category to put those in exactly." I giggle at the thought of it.

"Stella, I love you with all my heart, more than anyone can ever love a person. And that's why I'm going to ask you this now. Stella Blume, will you marry me?"

I squeeze his hand tightly, fighting back tears.

"Oh Paulie… yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

I fall into his arms and hug him more tightly than ever, locking my lips on his.

After a little while, we let go, and giggle like little children.

Paul looks down at the muddy ground and wrinkles up his nose.

"I love you, and I hate to wreck the moment, but can we please stand up? The water on the grass is running through my pants."

I stand up and we laugh, his face bright red.

"Sorry about that… let me see your hand."

I hold out my hand and he takes it in his, looking up at me with a smile (Neither of us can stop).

"You're palm's all sweaty," he says, winking at me.

"Yours are too, don't try to hide it," I say, winking back.

He takes the ring out from between the two tiny pillow-like cushions surrounding it and slips it on my left hand's ring finger.

"We're officially engaged, Miss Blume," he says, and I move my fingers, watching it glimmer in the starlight.

I throw my arms around him and give him another kiss.

I then turn to the gravestone and hold out my hand to it.

"Look Mummy and Daddy! I'm engaged!"

Paul laughs and puts an arm around me.

"I hope your grandchildren look more like her than me," he says to the stone. "She's way better looking."

I hit him playfully on the arm.

"Shut up… you're making me blush."

He squeezes my side.

"Like we aren't already."

I look up at the sky and Paul follows my gaze.

"I never realized how amazing the sky really is at nighttime," he says, twirling his finger around my hair. I nod.

"Neither did I. I think it's prettier when you know that everything's going to turn out right."

He kisses my neck, which makes me giggle.

"Well love, I think we'd better get back to the hotel. We're wasting perfectly good sleep." He raises his eyebrows, and I laugh.

"Oh, I see how it is," I say, crossing my arms in front of me.

"You don't want to budge?" He says, kissing my neck again. I try hard to hide my smile.

He sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the car, making me laugh so hard I snort.

He stops walking, and I cover my mouth in embarrassment.

Then we both start laughing.

"What was that?" He says, his eyes widening.

"Well, if we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, it's better that you find out that I snort when I laugh sooner than later."

He opens the door to the passenger's side and sets me down gently inside.

He walks to the driver's side and we're off out of the tiny town.


	18. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 18: Dublin**_

**I realize that this is skipping a few chapters but I couldn't find the other ones on her account and she doesn't use it anymore so I would ask you to imagine what you think those missing chapters would be like!**

The air inside the airport feels nice and cool against my skin, instantly sending a chill through my body.

"It doesn't feel like Dublin," I say, pulling my suitcase behind me.

"We crossed the border and stood in line for ages to use our passports! What do you mean it doesn't feel like we're in Dublin?" He says, laughing. I shrug.

"I don't know… I've never been to another country before."

His hand finds mine and they intertwine.

"Even if the country is right next to ours?"

"Yes Paul, it doesn't matter if the country is right next door," I smile, rolling my eyes sarcastically. "So where are we going, exactly?" I ask, looking at all of the signs hanging from the ceiling. He points straight to double doors leading into a car garage.

"Right there, Malady."

I beam. "I've never really done this before… have I mentioned that yet?" I say, smiling to him. He looks down and smiles.

"Several times, but that's okay. I still love you the same."

We keep walking in silence.

"Why aren't there any girls trying to get to you, Paul?" I ask, turning my head to him.

"Because Ireland isn't too impressed with us yet. Brian's been going on and on about it for weeks. But who really gives a crap about what they think? It's just a tiny island, tinier than Britain," he says, lowering his voice so that any angry Irish person can't hear.

"I'm sure that we'll get a few girls who ask for autographs, though. We're not completely unknown in this country."

"Are we going to have a driver for us, or are we driving?" I ask, cocking my head to the side like a little girl, which makes Paul smile.

"I'm driving, if you don't mind, Miss. I just want to be looked at as a normal person as we're here. You know where I'm coming from, right Stella?" He says, a smile spreading across his face at the thought of driving. I smile too. It's impossible not to smile when Paul does, just like it's impossible to laugh when John laughs.

"You're really cute when you smile," I say, which makes his face turn pink.

"Thank you, you're cute when you giggle after complimenting me."

I can't help but giggle, which makes him smile his toothy grin.

The humid air swirls around in the car garage outside, and we walk through rows of cars before we find one that we like.

We find one that just came out, and pass it quickly, for an old, rusty one. The car dealer is astonished that someone picked a trashy one.

Paul gets the keys and we get inside, amused by the sound of the engine.

We drive up and pay the man before driving off down the road.

"We'll check into our hotel first, and then go searching, alright?" Paul says, turning a sharp corner.

We drive down busy city streets, past suburban houses, and finally into the countryside.

I roll down the window and stick my hand out, letting the fresh air push it back. Paul laughs at the fact of no people around, and lets out a scream. I immediately put my hands up to my mouth and laugh so hard that I think I'll split my sides. Paul starts laughing too, surprised at himself.

"You never know what I'll do, do you?" He says between laughs. I shake my head, trying to control myself. Paul looks around us and smiles.

"You know what," he says, stopping the car on the side of the baron road.

"What?" I ask, looking around the car as well.

"There's nobody here…" He says, getting a crazy look in his eye. "We've got nothing to lose now…"

I just look at him, unable to hide the smile that's now on my face.

All at once, we climb into the trunk together.

We arrive at a beautiful hotel on the edge of the countryside and park the car.

Taking out the luggage, we walk through the doors into the elegant lobby, where I feel out of place, but Paul appears to fit right in.

He walks up to the desk, me on his heels, and begins talking to the man in the suit.

"What's your name, son?" The man asks, looking him in the eye.

"Paul McCartney, but I think it's under James McCartney."

The man looks unconvinced.

"You say your name's Paul McCartney? As in the petty boy from England?"

Paul and I stifle our laughter.

"Yes, sir," he says, doing everything he can not to laugh.

"May I see a license, son?"

Paul reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing the man his license. The man's face turns white, then red as he realizes that he is Paul McCartney.

"Thank you…" The man says, giving the license back.

"You'll be in room 234," he hands two sets of keys to him, and Paul hands me one.

We turn to leave, but the man stops us.

"Wait, Mr. McCartney."

Paul turns around slowly.

"Yes? This is the petty boy from England speaking."

I giggle, and Paul smiles in approval.

"About that… I'm sorry about calling you that. I have to learn not to make judgments about things – people I don't know about. Forgive me, and you have a nice stay."

Paul pretends to think about what the man said, then nods.

"Yeah, I guess it's alright. But don't expect the same reaction from John Lennon. He wouldn't appreciate that."

"Of course. Now is this woman your wife?"

Paul takes my hand.

"Her? Oh no, she's my girlfriend. But I love her like you'd love a wife. Well, we'll see you later." Paul says, and we walk down the hallway and up the stairs.

When we get to our room, we put our bags on the ground and walk out on the patio, staring out into the great wide open.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" I say, leaning my head on my hand. Paul nods and bites his lip.

"You don't really see this kind of a thing in Liverpool."

We don't say anything, just look outside.

"Do you remember that song that I used to sing at The Cavern?" Paul asks, not taking his eyes off the view.

"You sung a lot of songs at The Cavern, Paul," I say, looking up at the sky.

"Yeah, but that one – one of the first songs I wrote," He puts a hand over his eyes.

"Oh… what was it?"

It hits me. "Like Dreamers Do?"

He pops his head up again. "Yes!"

I look at him. "What about it?"

He looks back at me. "I wrote it before we were an item, remember?"

I nod slowly. "I remember, but why do you bring it up?" He gets a smile on his face that makes his dimples come out.

"I wrote it about you."

I smile and give him a quick kiss. "Aww, that's cute Paul."

His face turns a light pink.

"I thought that I'd tell you now that it's been a while since we met."

I put my head on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded if you told me a while ago," I say, looking into his brown eyes.

"But I'm glad you told me."

He smiles at me. "There's more coming."

I don't say anything, I can't think of anything worthwhile to say.

"You wanna go now, Stella?" He asks, moving away from me.

"Oh… sure," I say, realizing that I nearly forgot why we were in Dublin to begin with. Paul raises an eyebrow.

"You don't sound as excited as you were before…" He says, looking disappointed. I shake my head.

"No! I'm really excited! I'm sorry, I just forgot we were going, and I was lost in thought, so I wasn't really aware of what you were saying."

He smiles. "It's alright. I know where you're coming from. I've done that to you thousands of times," he says, laughing.

I roll my eyes sarcastically. "Lovely," I say. "I needed to know that."

He laughs and walks back inside. I follow him. We slip on our shoes and walk out the door, downstairs, and outside.

Paul waves to the man at the desk, and he waves back.

"Making friends, are we?" I ask, squinting in the sun.

"Well, if you're Paul McCartney, you have to," he says, unlocking the car.

We sit down on the peeling leather seats and instantly feel hot.

"It feels like a fuckin' oven in here!" Paul says, wiping his forehead.

I roll down the window. "Better?" I ask, and he shakes his head, cranking his window down as well.

"You know… never mind," he says, backing up the car and starting down the road again.

The country air feels good swirling around the car freely, and Paul seems to be enjoying the space away from fans and buildings.

I lean my head out the window and let my long hair blow behind me, squinting my eyes against the wind. Paul laughs from inside the car, and sticks his head out as well.

"What do you think people would think if they saw Paul McCartney and his girlfriend sticking their heads out the window of a car?"

Paul shakes his head. "Who cares?"

We drive into the darkness, watching the sun set behind us. The regular countryside has turned to baron wasteland, and there's about one house for every mile. In fact, there's so few, Paul and I have made a game out of it, counting every house we see on our side of the window.

We get to a little town and Paul parks the car near a cemetery, turning to me with a sad look in his eye.

"Why…" I start, and he takes my hand, biting his lip.

"Come on," he whispers, his voice low. I open my door slowly and wrap my arms around myself, confused and afraid.

Paul closes his door quietly and puts an arm around me, leading me through the steel gate.

We walk through the tombstones lined side by side, and I shiver by the thought of them. Paul turns down a different path, which leads us into one of the rows. He stops in front of one and lowers his head. I take a step toward it and fall to my knees, tears spilling down my cheeks.

The words carved into the stone blurs up, making it hard to read.

HARRY AND MELISSA BLUME – MAY THEIR SPIRITS LIVE ON INSIDE OF US FOREVER.

Paul puts his hand on my shoulder.

"No…" I say, my voice hardly coming out.

"I'm so sorry, love…"

I run my hand along the edge of it, making sure that it's there.

The date is worn off, so it's impossible to tell when they died.

I stand up next to Paul, and he wraps his arms around me.

"Who knows how long I've loved you, you know I love you still, will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to, I will. For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name, but it never really mattered, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we're together, love you when we're apart. So when at last I find you, your song will fill the air, sing it loud so I can hear you, make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me, oh you know I will. I will." He sings softly, his words dancing gracefully around me.

I automatically know that he wrote the song himself, nobody can write something like that.

He sways back and forth slowly, filling me with comfort.

"The baby," he says, and I feel like crying at the words. Why would he mention this now? He knows that I feel uneasy.

"The baby," I repeat, looking up at him.

He takes my hands off of him and holds them for a moment.

"I have to do something a minute. Excuse me," he lets go of my hands and kneels in front of the grave.

He takes out a tiny velvet box and holds it out to the grave. I put my hands over my mouth.

"Mr. and Mrs. Blume, my name is James Paul McCartney, and I don't know if you remember me, but we've met here before. I am extremely in love with your daughter, and think that she is the most wonderful woman you'll ever meet. And I apologize for making her pregnant with your granddaughter. I want to set things right, which makes me have to act on this quicker than I had originally planned. Your daughter is smart, beautiful, funny, sweet, nice, and more that I can never name all in one lifetime. The one thing that makes me absolutely amazed by her is the fact that she stuck with me and believed in me when nobody else did. She believed that I had talent when Liverpool and Germany turned us down. Look at us now, people have discovered us, and realized that we do have talent. I think that Stella has way more talent than I do, however, and that I could learn a lot from her. I would love to grow old with her by my side, and I want to never let her go away from my side. I love your daughter more than you can imagine. And that's why I'm asking for your blessing, and that I may make her my wife. I know that you aren't exactly able to tell me yes or no, or to shake my hand, but it would mean the world to me if you would give me a sign that shows that you understand and approve of me," he places his hand against the cool stone and looks up at the sky. I look up too.

Amazingly, a single star soars across the sky, leaving a trail of sparkles behind it.

Paul's beaming.

I'm stunned by what's going on.

He closes his hand around the box, and nods at the stone. "Thank you. I won't let you down."

He stands up, turns to me and takes my hand, his eyes sparkling.

He gets down on one knee and takes out the box once more, flipping it open to show a beautiful diamond ring, by far the prettiest thing I've ever seen.

My eyes glisten with tears of joy. He moves his thumb back and forth on my skin, which makes my heart beat fifty times the amount of a normal heart.

"Stella Blume," he says, and my heart flutters. I can tell his is too.

"We have known each other for a long, long time. You have been with me through thick and thin. We have had some pretty good times, and some sad times too. We have also done some naughty things, and I'm not sure what category to put those in exactly." I giggle at the thought of it.

"Stella, I love you with all my heart, more than anyone can ever love a person. And that's why I'm going to ask you this now. Stella Blume, will you marry me?"

I squeeze his hand tightly, fighting back tears.

"Oh Paulie… yes! Yes, I will marry you!"

I fall into his arms and hug him more tightly than ever, locking my lips on his.

After a little while, we let go, and giggle like little children.

Paul looks down at the muddy ground and wrinkles up his nose.

"I love you, and I hate to wreck the moment, but can we please stand up? The water on the grass is running through my pants."

I stand up and we laugh, his face bright red.

"Sorry about that… let me see your hand."

I hold out my hand and he takes it in his, looking up at me with a smile (Neither of us can stop).

"You're palm's all sweaty," he says, winking at me.

"Yours are too, don't try to hide it," I say, winking back.

He takes the ring out from between the two tiny pillow-like cushions surrounding it and slips it on my left hand's ring finger.

"We're officially engaged, Miss Blume," he says, and I move my fingers, watching it glimmer in the starlight.

I throw my arms around him and give him another kiss.

I then turn to the gravestone and hold out my hand to it.

"Look Mummy and Daddy! I'm engaged!"

Paul laughs and puts an arm around me.

"I hope your grandchildren look more like her than me," he says to the stone. "She's way better looking."

I hit him playfully on the arm.

"Shut up… you're making me blush."

He squeezes my side.

"Like we aren't already."

I look up at the sky and Paul follows my gaze.

"I never realized how amazing the sky really is at nighttime," he says, twirling his finger around my hair. I nod.

"Neither did I. I think it's prettier when you know that everything's going to turn out right."

He kisses my neck, which makes me giggle.

"Well love, I think we'd better get back to the hotel. We're wasting perfectly good sleep." He raises his eyebrows, and I laugh.

"Oh, I see how it is," I say, crossing my arms in front of me.

"You don't want to budge?" He says, kissing my neck again. I try hard to hide my smile.

He sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the car, making me laugh so hard I snort.

He stops walking, and I cover my mouth in embarrassment.

Then we both start laughing.

"What was that?" He says, his eyes widening.

"Well, if we're going to spend the rest of our lives together, it's better that you find out that I snort when I laugh sooner than later."

He opens the door to the passenger's side and sets me down gently inside.

He walks to the driver's side and we're off out of the tiny town.


	19. Chapter 20

_**Chapter 20: Digging A Hole**_

I feel bigger than a whale. I put my hand on my now huge stomach and walk alongside Paul, hand in hand.

"How much longer is it going to be?" I moan, wincing at yet another power kick. "You're due in three weeks yet."

He's been my personal calendar, and I think that he's more worried than I am about it's arrival. He's been sweating a lot lately and having strange dreams. Whenever I ask him what they're about, he just shakes his head. He's been going insane, going to the studios to record more music, and then coming home to help me with whatever I need. Then we go to the wedding planner and they talk to us about dress colors and decorations. We wanted the wedding to be a bigger deal than John and Cynthia's. And guess what? The media just found out that we're marrying in two days. So we're going to the wedding planner again at the moment, and once again it takes me a while to get there.

Paul pushes the door to the office open, and we're relieved to get away from the hidden reporters. A stressed woman clamps her hands together and smiles at us.

"Ah, are we ready for another session?" Paul runs his fingers through his wind-swept hair.

The woman takes my arm and leads me into a room with mirrors shining my reflection back at me. I've seen this room many times before. Other women surround a wooden block, and I step on it once more. The women go to work, measuring my arms and asking me questions about my life.

They look at my stomach and bite their lips, wondering how on earth they're going to pull it off.

The baby kicks hard and I wince, my hand shooting to where it kicked. A woman with tight curly hair comes to my side and helps me sit down, relaxing me.

"First time, isn't it?" She tucks her hair behind her ear, only to have it pop back out again.

"Yes," I wince, taking a sharp inhale.

"I've been there too. I know how you feel, honey. How long until you're free? It's got to be soon."

"Three weeks," I say. She smiles. "That's not too bad. It could be early." I attempt a smile, despite the pain.

"I know you're probably deathly sick about people asking about Paul, but how does he feel about this whole thing? You don't have to answer if you don't want, honey." I shake my head. "No, it's fine. He's really nervous, and it's really cute how he's been acting. He sweats whenever it kicks and hurts me, and he cries whenever I'm in pain. And the whole concept about the delivery is really scaring him, probably more than me. He's such a honey."

Her eyes light up at the thought of him. "Oh, you two are adorable together. You were made for each other. I wish my husband did that when I had my children. They're 22 and 17 now… oh how I long for those days when they were little." I'm amazed by her age.

"Really? You don't look like you do." She laughs.

"Oh! Thank you darling! You're making me blush!" I rub my stomach.

"Can you stand up now, honey?" I look up at her.

"Oh, sure," I take her hand and she helps me to my feet.

Before I know it, girls are holding up beautiful fabric to me and measuring and cutting again.

I stare back at my reflection, amazed by the dress. "It's wonderful! Thank you!" I turn to the side and bite my lip at the size of my belly.

"Is everything okay?" The curly haired woman asks.

"Oh, yes, everything's absolutely perfect, thank you!"

She nods unconvincingly. "Paul, are you coming sweetie?"

I see a middle-aged woman come in the room, and Paul's head peek around the corner in a black tuxedo. He beams as soon as he sees me, and I do the same to him.

"Amazing," he whispers, "absolutely amazing." He walks over to me and gives me a kiss.

"And that's without her hair and makeup done professionally." A woman pipes in.

Paul smirks at her, then turns back to me.

"Two days."

I smile at him.

"Three weeks."

He attempts to smile back at me, but I see the fear in his eyes. Fear of what's coming next.

"Cute," he says.

"I'm glad to hear your approval, Mr. McCartney." A woman says, pushing up her glasses.

Another claps her hands together. "I'll call that a day! We'll meet you back tomorrow for the run-through." Paul moans. "Again? I think we all have it memorized."

The women laugh. "Such a nice boy," an elderly woman says, and she brushes Paul's hair off of his forehead.

"He'd be even cuter if he didn't have that incredibly long hair of his."

Paul smiles and shakes his head quickly, making his hair fall back in place.

"Shall we get going then, Ma'am?" Paul says, giving the woman his arm. She giggles like a little girl and takes it, walking away towards Paul's dressing room. The other women giggle to me about how cute Paul is, and how lucky I am to be getting married to him.

I pull my sweater over my head and fix my hair in the mirror, studying my face. I see the door open from behind me and Paul comes behind me and rubs my shoulders.

"You seem a little tense," he says, and I turn around and kiss him. "Look who's talking, little Liverpudlian boy." I scruff his hair up. He puts his arm around me and we walk out into the lobby once more, taking a seat on the couch.

A man at the front desk with a scarf wrapped around his neck is studying his paperwork as we wait for the curly haired woman to come back.

"He's rather flamboyant, isn't he?" Paul whispers, and I giggle. "John would get a kick out of him, wouldn't he?" I whisper back.

"As much as he gets a kick out of Brian."

I cock my head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Paul gives a nervous laugh. "Brian's gay."

I turn to face him. "No," I say, not halfway surprised.

"You didn't know that?" I shake my head.

"I don't want to jump to conclusions."

The man at the desk turns to face us. "So, what do you two do for a living?" Paul looks up at him strangely.

"Well, I'm Paul McCartney… I'm in a band called The Beatles." He shakes his head.

"So sorry, Mr. McCartney. I didn't realize." He turns to me.

"And what do you do?" I don't know what to say, and I'm relieved to hear Paul answer.

"She takes pictures of our band. You know, pictures that no photographer can get because they don't know us."

"Oh? May I see?" Paul smirks. "Why would she carry pictures around?"

"Then how can I see?"

"You just won't be able to, I guess," Paul says, shrugging. The man raises an eyebrow and bites his lip uncomfortably.

"Something wrong?" Paul asks.

"You just... need to..." The man rubs his chin, trying to indicate something to Paul. We both instantly know that he means he has to shave, but we can't imagine why the man would care.

"I don't exactly understand sign language..." Paul says.

We go on with this for about what feels like ten minutes, and soon the man gets extremely frustrated with us and throws his head on the desk.

Paul moves his hand on his face. "I really need to shave." I kiss him on the cheek. "You're beautiful either way."

I think the man will explode by the sound he makes next.

The woman with the frizzy hair comes back in.

"Paul and Stella, we'll be having you two back tomorrow for our final run-through, and then we'll be all set for Saturday! Sound good?"

"Yes, Ma'am." We say in unison.

"Great! See you tomorrow! Bye-bye now!" She waves to us and we walk outside hand in hand.

"You excited?" John asks, popping out from behind the building, making us jump. George and Ringo come out too, grinning.

"Bloody hell guys. What the fuck were you thinking? You know that people have been coming out of nowhere taking pictures of us."

"Well the 'cute' Beatle is going to marry, don't you think that they want a piece of you? Great story there." Paul sticks up his middle finger at John. "You didn't need to freak us out though." John shakes his head. "You know we have to, Macca." Paul rolls his eyes.

"So what do you want, Lennon?" He asks, looking over his shoulder to make sure that nobody's going to attack us with cameras (like always happens).

"We were going to pick you up for recording. Stella can come if she wants," George says.

"Alright, we'll come."

"Great. Now we'll just call our driver…" We walk inside and Ringo calls the man up.

We walk back outside and get in the car, letting the warm air swallow us up.

"How are the future McCartney's?" The driver asks, looking at us through the rearview mirror. Paul pulls me towards him. "Wonderful, thanks for asking." The man smiles at us.

"That's good. Luckily Abbey Road is close, so I'm afraid to say that we're already here."

"We're in the back to escape the girls?" George asks, sitting up in his seat.

"Yes, Mr. Harrison, we are." He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Cool."

John stands up and opens the door.

"One… two… three!"

We jump out of the car and charge past the hundreds of girls and photographers waiting outside. We're blinded by flashes from cameras and deafened by the screaming of girls. Paul tucks me inside his coat and we run towards the door.

Police try to contain the girls, but some break through, trying to get a piece of the boys, and a kick at me.

"Bitches…" Paul mutters as a girl tries to kick my shins. Brian opens up the door of the studio and we all run inside, falling on the ground to catch our breath once inside.

"Did they get you?" Paul pants, rolling over onto his back. I can't reply, because I can't breathe. I heave breaths and struggle, and Paul takes notice immediately.

"Stella, what's wrong?" He says, sitting up and looking at me.

"John!" John runs over in half a second and bends down.

"God, she can't breathe. John, do something!"

John thinks for a minute frantically, then nods. He puts both of his hands on me and pushes me onto my side, and I take a big breath before panting like a dog.

Paul comes over and lays down beside me, wrapping his arms around me.

"Don't scare me like that ever again!" He says, and I notice tears in his eyes. He runs his hand through my hair. "I love you too much."

He sits up after a little bit and walks to John, giving him a huge hug. It startles John, and he wraps his arms around him too. "Thanks Lennie. I couldn't live without you."

John nods and pats him on the back. "It's okay Paul. Everything's alright now. It was just a little problem, but we solved it."

They let go and Paul helps me to my feet, taking me into the recording room where I sit with George Martin and Brian listening to them do take after take of their new single 'She Loves You'.

Afterward, they all come up and listen to their takes, picking which one they like. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I hear the boys laughing.

"Is she asleep?" Ringo whispers.

"Yeah, she is I think." George replies.

"It's easier to tell if she's sleeping than Paul." John laughs. I hear Paul smack him. "Hey, it's true!"

"What's true?" Paul asks.

"You sleep with your frickin' eyes open!" John says, breaking out into a laugh.

"I do not! Geo, you tell him!"

"Sorry to jump on John's side, but you do. It's creepy." George snickers.

"I don't believe you guys. I'm asking Stella."

"And why would she know?" Ringo asks, getting a laugh from John. Paul doesn't answer. I feel Paul's hand on my shoulder.

"Good afternoon, love. Do I really sleep with my eyes open sometimes?"

Without opening my eyes, I nod slowly.

"Dammit! As much as I love you, that means that the guys win," he kisses me on the cheek. "But they aren't getting married in two days, or have a son on the way." He kisses me again. I open up my eyes and smile at him.

"It's kind of strange, but it's just another one of your cute and unique qualities," He grins. "See guys? It's cute in a creepy kind of way."

John rolls his eyes. "That's great, Macca. It's still creepy."

I prop myself up on an elbow. "So when are we done?"

They all bite their lips. "We've got about two hours left." My eyes widen.

"What?" Ringo raises an eyebrow.

"I thought that you knew what you were getting into by marryin' a Beatle." I wrinkle up my nose.

"Wake me up when we're done." Paul nods.

"Alright, love." The phone rings and Paul stands up to get it. I hear him begin talking to someone, then his voice gets faint and it soon disappears.

I feel Paul's soft lips on mine, and I recognize this as my wake-up call. I yawn and smile to feel his nose graze mine.

"Are we all done?"

He nods, giving me another kiss. "I love you." He whispers. "I love you too," I whisper. He bends down, lifts up my shirt a little, and kisses my stomach.

"And I love you too."

He helps me stand up and we walk to the door. "Ready?"

I look around the baron studio. "Where's the others?"

Paul nods to the car outside. "Already in there." I squint and am able to see three mop-tops bouncing around, waving to girls and laughing at ones that fall. I nod. "Ready."

He tucks me inside his coat a little, and we run to the car, yank the door open, and fall back on the leather seats. John crawls up into the front seat and leans back so the chair falls into George's lap. He moans and kicks it, so that John sits straight again. "No need to get feisty, Jorje."

George raises an eyebrow. "Jorje?" John turns around.

"Yeah, y'know, George in Spanish." George falls back in his chair.

"Ah, sure it is, Johnny."

"It IS!" John says, turning back to the front. He points to his flat he's sharing with Cynthia and the driver lets him out.

"See you at the bachelor par-tay tomorrow, Paulie, Geo and Rings. We wave to him and he salutes us back before running into the apartments.

We drop off Ringo next, and he says the same. Then we get around to Paul's house and he kisses me goodbye, saying he'll see me soon.

George and I get out of the car at our house, and we get smothered in kisses from Mrs. Harrison. She scruffs up George's hair which makes him turn a crimson red.

"Mum…" She rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. "My little boy is too old for his Mummy?" He looks at me and shakes his head.

"Don't you start on me, Stella." I smirk at him.

Mrs. Harrison lets go of his cheek, and he rubs it.

"Love you Mum, but I'm really tired. We played 'I Want to Hold Your Hand' about a million times. I never want to hear it again."

"Oh yeah I'll tell you something, I think you'll understand…" I start, my face breaking out in a smile. His hands shoot to his ears and he runs upstairs. "NO!"

Mrs. Harrison and I giggle at his reaction.

"I can't believe that my youngest child is going to be successful before any of my others," she puts her arm around me. "And my adopted child is going to marry one of the boys in the same band as my son." I smile and look down at my shoes, slipping them off my feet. Mrs. Harrison lets go and walks into the kitchen.

"Do you want anything to eat, honey? The baby's probably starving! You don't eat anything, you're so thin. Then again, I guess that if you're Paul McCartney's fiancé you have to keep yourself looking good…" I smile as she continues talking to herself. I pull my leggings off from underneath my skirt, letting the fresh air hit my legs.

"Woah there…" I jump to hear Harry's voice behind me. (Harry's one of my step-brothers if you've forgotten, however, he's hardly ever in the house).

He walks in from the parlor, opening a water bottle in his hands. "No need to strip for me… you can leave that for Paul."

I smile at him and give him a hug. "I haven't seen you around here for a while… when did you get back from..."

"Norway."

"When did you get back from Norway?" I ask, which makes him chuckle. "Yesterday. You weren't home!" I release him from my arms.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"You were at the McCartney's, weren't you?" He asks, getting a sly look over his face. I shake my head.

"Harry, I know better than to spend the night with Paul at their house. I was at a hotel!"

Harry smiles and scratches his head.

"Well, it's nice to see you, and now you're going away in a day. What's up with that?" I open my mouth to reply, but he goes on.

"Nah, I'm excited for you. It's not every day that two of your siblings are associated with the Beatles. One of them is in it, and the other is engaged to one!"

He scruffs up my hair, and I smile. His stomach growls and he puts a hand against it. "Yikes. My stomach… sorry," he looks up at me and then at my stomach - about five times the size of his.

"Speaking of stomachs…" he says, meeting my eye. I rest my hand on top of my stomach and rub it.

"Last time I checked, you aren't married, Missy!"

My face turns red.

"How many months has it been?"

I shake my head. "I don't want to say."

He punches me playfully in the arm. "C'mon… It can't be that bad."

"Nine months," I say, and his jaw drops a little. "Really?"

"Surprised?"

"Nah, it's pretty obvious. You're smaller than Ringo. It's pretty easy to tell on skinny, short women." I smack him. "What's the baby's name going to be?" He says, rubbing his cheek where I hit him. "James, if it's a boy."

"Isn't that Paul's name?" He asks, biting his lip. I nod.

"Yeah, it's a McCartney tradition. I decided to follow it, seeing as I'll be a McCartney soon." My heart skips a beat at the thought.

His stomach grumbles again, louder this time. "Well, that's great, but I'm really hungry… I'll be back in a few."

I nod and he walks past, patting my back as he goes.

I sit down in the parlor and look at the flowered curtains hiding the girls outside screaming for George.

I wish that I could open the curtains, to let the sun streak in, but I can't.

I pray that it dies down a little, or that Paul and I move to the country, where nobody is. Just enough privacy to have the curtains open, to let the sun creep in.


End file.
